The Warrior Laird by Margo Maguire

his touch.
    And in his dream, he had touched her everywhere.
    â€œBloody neep.”
    â€œWhat?” Lachann asked.
    â€œNaught.” Just giving himself a well-deserved scolding. “I wonder if she came this far.” They’d caught up to Conall and Kieran, who’d seen no sign of her.
    Clearly, something was seriously wrong with him if he was so susceptible to a pretty face. What ailed him could probably be cured by a wife—a spirited lass, one who possessed a strong backbone and would stand with him at the head of their clan.
    Such a woman must exist, and Dugan intended to find her as soon as he resolved the issue of Argyll’s rent. For he could not bring a wife into that perilous situation, not until he knew the MacMillans would keep their lands.
    â€œI’d say she must have,” Lachann answered. “Else Kieran or Conall would have seen her.”
    â€œI should have posted a guard last night,” Dugan said.
    â€œYou cannot blame yourself, brother,” Lachann retorted. “We were all exhausted last night.”
    â€œMayhap.” But a MacMillan laird should have risen above his fatigue to take better care of the map. ’Twas what any competent laird would have done.
    They followed the curve of the river and passed a small town to the north. ’Twas still early, and there were only a few hearth fires burning. Dugan was fairly certain Maura had traveled this path, but they didn’t see any sign of her.
    Soon they passed a crooked little croft situated a few yards into the woods, but no one was about, except for a huge dog that sat in front of its door. The giant hound watched as they passed, but made no sound to alert its master of their passing, as though it understood they were no threat.
    They might be no threat to the crofter, but the redhead was going to suffer severe consequences when they found her.
    â€œDo ye think she knows about the gold, Laird?” Archie asked.
    â€œWithout question. One of you idiots mentioned gold in the taproom last night,” Lachann responded hotly. “What else was she to think when she saw the map?”
    â€™Twas difficult for Dugan to grasp the notion of Lady Maura leaving the town alone on a search for gold that she’d heard about only in passing, with a map that had not yet yielded any clues. Women did not travel alone. They did not take to the hills on foot without wagons full of supplies, without armed men to protect them.
    And they certainly did not tryst with strange men on the verandas of inns.
    Clearly, Dugan had misapprehended the woman from the moment he’d set eyes upon her. And now he was paying the price.
    They’d traveled a full league past the croft when Dugan signaled for his men to split up. Even though riding through the woods would slow them down, they would cover more territory, and it was possible she’d abandoned the path in order to walk under cover of the trees.
    â€œWe’ll ride parallel. I’ll keep to the road. Lachann, go into the woods where I can hear you if you call out. Archie, ride past Lachann, but stay within earshot. The rest of you do the same.”
    He hoped they didn’t have to go too far before one of them stumbled upon the thieving wench.
    D uring her journey from Glasgow, Maura had never, ever spoken of Rosie to anyone, for fear that someone would guess the goal she’d harbored these past two years.
    She’d done all she could to cause Bridget and Baird to believe she would take a southerly path. By the time they realized their mistake, she would be so far into the highlands they would never find her.
    The same was not true of the MacMillan laird. If he figured out who had stolen his map, he would be on her trail so fast she would not have time to hide. Maura did not think Dugan MacMillan would kill her, but it was imperative that she evade him. She hoped he and his men did not awaken too soon.
    She regretted that the highland