Winning the Highlander's Heart

  “So,” Angus said, his dark brows pinched together, “tell us about this farmhouse.”

  Her stomach tightened.

  Malcolm cleared his throat and looked at them with a stern eye. “We ran into trouble.”

  Angus motioned with his head to the occupied tables. “Fontenot’s men searching for Lady Anice and their laird.”

  “’Tis no’ good. We ran into the baron himself.”

  Dougald’s neck muscle tightened. Angus shook his head.

  “I was tempted to run him and his knights through with my claymore.”

  “He saw her? With ye?” Angus asked, worry etched in the wrinkle of his forehead.

  “She was buried under a couple of blankets. They never got a peek at her.”

  The brothers both looked at Anice, and she knew they realized what had to have happened. She’d been with Malcolm, naked.

  She looked down at the table, her face burning as if it were on fire.

  “What happened?” Dougald asked, his voice darkly concerned.

  “Soaked to the skin, the lady was near death. Incoherent and shaking, she could not last.”

  Dougald ran his hand over his stubbled chin and again cast a glance in Anice’s direction, then faced Malcolm. “And the farmer and his wife? Could not they confirm—”

  “The house had been abandoned.”

  Both Angus’s and Dougald’s jaws tightened while Kemp’s eyes grew round.

  The serving wench returned with steaming bowls of porridge and mugs of mead. When she left, Anice tried to spoon out her porridge, but her hand shook. She dropped the spoon, then rubbed her hands together in her lap. Did his brothers have to know? Best if nobody did.

  Malcolm reached under the table and squeezed her hand. “The baron asked about her, and I had to tell him she was my wife.”

  Dougald cursed under his breath. Angus’s eyes widened.

  Kemp grinned. “And I thought I made up a lot o’ tales.”

  “When he arrives at Brecken, he will find you have nay wife,” Dougald said.

  “I will be his wife.” Anice tilted her chin up, daring anyone to contradict her. Then she grabbed her mead and drank a goodly sum of it.

  The brothers stared at her. “You have not even received word from the king that you may seek the lady’s hand in marriage,” Dougald said.

  “Aye, we will only pretend she is my wife.”

  Dougald shook his head. “You cannot be with her as husband and wife. This baron already wants us dead.”

  “I will not really be his wife,” Anice said, frowning. “For heaven’s sakes. I will only pretend so the baron will tire of waiting for Lady Anice and leave. I will not need to marry then. Just bide my time until some other Highland gentleman seeks my hand for real.”

  The brothers looked at Malcolm to see his response.

  He ignored Anice’s jab. “If we can get to Brecken before the baron and his men, she intends to let her courtiers know the plan, then we will all be bound by it. In the meantime, we will uncover the plot that the baron killed her uncle.”

  Dougald finished his mead. “I do not like any of this.”

  “It could not be helped, Dougald. Nay one could have been more shocked than I when they arrived at the farmhouse, half-drowned like a crew on a sinking ship.”

  Anice quickly downed the rest of her drink.

  Both Malcolm’s brothers watched her. They knew. She’d slept naked with a man not her husband. Scandalous.

  Chairs scraped the wooden floor on the other side of the room.

  Dougald warned, “One of his men is coming. They have already questioned us about whether we had seen the lady and her companions.”

  Boots clomped in their direction and Malcolm and his brothers sat taller.

  “How now.” The burly, dark-haired man maneuvered between Malcolm and Anice. Her blood grew cold when the man stood so close to her. “Your brothers said they did not see two woman and four men on their journey. What about ye?”

  Malcolm shook his head. “Nay, we did not see any sign of them.”

  “Did you come across our lord, mayhap? Baron Harold de Fontenot? We became separated from him during the storm also.”

  Malcolm glanced at the man’s sword. “You have lost quite a considerable number of people, Sir Knight.”

  The knight’s response was harsh. “Ye have not answered my question.”

  Anice wrung her hands in her lap. If Malcolm said no they hadn’t met up with the baron, and the knight met them later and the baron said yes...but then again, Malcolm wasn’t dressed as a monk. Heaven’s have mercy, he wasn’t dressed at all.

  Her stomach grew queasy.

  Angus gruffly grabbed her arm as a man would another. “Are you ill, brother?”

  “Mayhap we should get you a room, Brother John. The storm has taken a wee bit out of ye,” Malcolm quickly said.

  She shook her head, but kept her face averted from the knight.

  “You did not answer my question.” The knight’s voice rose with impatience. “Did ye, or did ye not see His Lordship?”

  “We saw nay one during our travels. Like I said, ‘twas a devil of a storm.”

  The knight waited and Anice feared he looked her over. “You seem young to be a monk.”

  She wanted to shrink in her seat to disappear from the man’s interrogation, but sat taller and straightened her shoulders. The telltale sound of a sword sliding out of its sheath startled her. She opened her mouth to speak.

  “Brother John was beaten when he was little, and he cannot talk,” Kemp said.

  Angus and Dougald reached under their robes for their swords.

  “Come on, James,” one of the men shouted. “They know nothing. Their damned Scots.”

  “And so is the lady we are searching for.” The man slid his sword back into its sheath and stormed off.

  “Are you all right?” Malcolm reached under the table and took Anice’s hand. His fingers were warm and reassuring, and she wished he’d pull her close and squeeze her tightly against his chest.

  “Aye,” she whispered. “Let us finish our porridge and be on our way.”

  “Are you sure you do not want to rest a bit longer? You look awfully pale.”

  “Nay, our horses are well rested. We should tarry no more. I fear the longer we delay the better chance we have at getting caught.” She couldn’t help but feel they were quickly sinking deeper into a quagmire of quicksand. Physically and emotionally she was drained. But she couldn’t show the strain. The best thing for all concerned was to push on.

  After they finished their meal, they headed outside and found the knights examining their horses. Dismayed, she’d hoped they’d left the area already. They were sure to wonder why monks, if that’s who owned the horses, had such fine mounts.

  “Walk on past to the chapel down there,” Malcolm said under his breath.

  She tugged at her cowl. “They will think the horses ours, will they not?”

  “There may be some others sleeping—”

  “They would have stabled their horses for the night, like we had done,” Dougald warned.

  “Shhh, keep moving,” Malcolm said. He knew as well as she did, the men would suspect the monks, and already they were some suspicious of her.

  Kemp ran back toward the men. Anice jerked her head around.

  “Anice, do not look back. Just keep moving. The boy will be fine. He is a canny lad.” He glanced back at Kemp. “He is asking about their swords, distracting them.”

  “But what if they question him about us?”

  “You heard him. He tells tales all of the time. He knows what we said and will be careful.”

  Before they reached the chapel, small footsteps pounded the muddy road behind them.

  “Kemp,” Anice scolded, “you should not have run off to speak with those men.”

  He grinned at her. “I told them I would rather be a knight, and asked if the baron wanted another page. They stopped looking your horses over and headed
down the street.” Kemp glanced back. “They are gone.”

  Malcolm pulled Anice into a butcher’s shop. “Dougald, you and Angus get your horses and meet us at the inn.”

  “How now, milord. How can I help ye?” the baldheaded butcher asked as Malcolm’s brothers hurried off with Kemp.

  “We wish to purchase salted pork if you have any.”

  After they’d made the purchase, they headed back outside.

  The baron’s knights were riding south in the direction Malcolm and Anice had come from, which gladdened her. If they had ridden in Anice and her escort’s northerly direction, no telling when they might run across the men again and this time when they saw all of the monk’s fine horses....

  “I wonder how long it will be before they discover the baron’s horses and the baron himself.” She hoped bandits would rid them of the baron and his knights. But as armed as the men were, ‘twas wishful thinking.

  “Probably locate the baron fairly soon, but it might take a while to round up the horses. Luckily, he did not see our monks’ robes in the farmhouse. I had laid them in a corner of the room where the firelight did not reach them after they dried.”

  “Your brothers seemed upset we were in the farmhouse alone together.”

  He smiled and helped her to mount. “They worry I will lose my head. The baron deserves to walk for saying he would warm you after I told him you were my wife.”

  “Aye, he deserves worse than that.”

  The sound of hooves pounding in the mud forced them to turn to see the brothers joining them with Kemp once again riding behind Angus. The party headed north again.

  “We’re in for a bit of trouble, lass,” Malcolm said to Anice.

  “Aye, Malcolm. But I have been getting in trouble for years.”

  “You never said why you slept under the stars on your own one night.”

  She smiled at the memory. “My uncle was going to battle with the Campbells. I wanted to watch our brave men fight.”

  Malcolm’s brow furrowed. “You did not, did ye?

  “Nay. I ran for three miles, but lost them. By the time I returned home, the gate was closed. Since I had dressed as a lad, the guard thought I was a beggar boy and would not let me in.” Malcolm watched her with a strange expression she couldn’t fathom. “What?”

  “Is that why you took the boy with us?”

  “Aye. My mother always said I took in too many strays. But when I have so much to give, I cannot help but want to assist someone who has nay way to improve himself. Granted, if the person does not work hard in return, I would not give him another chance.”

  His lips curved up slowly. “Methinks, Anice, if you like a lad enough, you will give him all the chances he needs.”

  “Kemp is a good lad, do you not think?”

  “Aye. Even if he does not work out as a groom, he will be one of the most loyal men you can trust in your employ. I bet my life on it. He is utterly devoted to you already.”

  They fell silent for sometime, then Anice said, “Your brothers did not seem pleased that I would pretend to be your wife.”

  “They are concerned for your safety. And mine.”

  “Aye, you might lose your head.” She grinned.

  “You do not seem upset over the prospect.”

  “I have had so many betrothals over the years, what is another?”

  He grinned at her. “This one has kissed ye, for one.”

  She turned her attention straight ahead, but couldn’t help smiling.

  “If he were married to ye, he would do more than warm you when you are cold.”

  “You should not talk like that.” ‘Twas not fair that he spied every bit of her, when she was too ill to get a glimpse of him.

  “You brought it up, lass. I was trying to explain how this man would be a husband you would wish to keep. He would kiss every inch of your creamy, soft skin and—”

  “Rider ahead!” Dougald warned. “Make that four.”

  As the men approached, Dougald greeted them.

  “If you wish to use this road, you will have to pay a toll,” one of the men said.

  “We are men of God, and have little more than the clothes on our backs,” Dougald remarked, but his hand reached for his sword.

  “Stay here, Anice,” Malcolm ordered, his voice firm. He galloped off to join his brother. When he reached him, he said to the man, “Do you work for a laird here, or for yourselves?”

  He was determining whether these men were brigands, in which case he could kill them. If they worked for a laird, they would have to pay the fine. She tried to relax and loosened her grip on the reins. If they needed her help, she’d be ready to use her bow.

  “We cannot kill monks,” one of the men entreated. “We will all be damned.”

  “We work for Lord Trussot. But because you are clergy, we will let you pass.”

  “God be with ye, my son,” Malcolm said.

  “We will include you in our prayers,” Dougald added.

  “Pass then and be quick about it. We do not want the word to get out that we did not charge you the toll.”

  The party continued on their way, though one of the men commented that Anice looked too small to be a monk, then said something about the boy. But with relief, Anice and her escort continued on their way without further incident.

  “I had looked forward to removing this robe, but it appears it might still come in handy,” she said to Malcolm.

  “Aye, lass. And if we run into any more of the baron’s men, they will not know if it is us, either.”

  The rest of the day’s journey was slow and tedious, but that eve Anice was looking forward to a stay in a castle. When she saw the towers in the distance, she smiled. “Do you know the laird here?”

  “I was in the English royal court for a time, during William’s reign and met several of these Norman lairds.”

  “Then he will nay doubt remember you, and we will have to remove our disguises.”

  “Aye. And this time you shall be my wife.”

  “We do not need to play the role this early.”

  “Aye, we must.” His eyes sparkled with devilment. “If the baron stops here, it will be better if Laird Whitehaven says, ‘Nay she has not been here, but Laird MacNeill just visited us with his lovely bride.’ If we did not profess to be husband and wife, and we said I was accompanying you as your steward, then the baron might think the woman hiding under the blanket was Lady Anice.”

  She worried her lower lip. “But you ken, Malcolm, the baron never saw me naked.”

  He grinned.

  “Well, he did not, did he? Not unless he peeked like you did.”

  Malcolm chuckled. “I did not peek.”

  Her face heated. “You ogled me?”

  “Nay, lass, but ‘twas hard not to see you when I was removing all your wet clothes. To answer your other question, he saw your garments hanging out to dry. It would not take a brilliant man to realize the curvaceous body lying beneath the blanket was a naked woman.”

  The notion they had been so close to a deadly confrontation forced a shudder down her spine. Had the men wanted to press the issue as to who she was, Malcolm would have undoubtedly used his sword. “What if the laird here wants to put us together for the night?”

  “I will ask that he allow you to sleep with his other ladies.”

  “Are you sure this will work?” A growing sense of disquiet filled her. Again, a premonition that not all would be well.

  “Aye.” Malcolm’s look grew serious. “I dinna want

  to upset you, milady, but ye have not told me what

  happened to your fourth betrothed husband.”

  Chapter Ten

  Anice looked at her horse, unable to lift her face, unable to look at Malcolm. ‘Twas a despicable thing she’d had to do, necessary for her defense, yet she would never forgive herself. “I killed him.”

  Only the sound of their horses’ hooves clip-clopping on the road filled the air, otherwise dead silence prevai
led. She tucked an errant curl inside her wimple, her fingers icy against her skin and shivered.

  “Are you all right?” Malcolm asked, his voice comforting, but she wanted it not.

  “He was a Robertson of Glenorchie,” she said, softly, hating to relive the pain of that day. Of course she was not all right, but she would tell him and be done with it. If he decided he wished her not, so be it. She couldn’t hide from her past forever, though she was still unwilling to tell him about her premonitions. He’d think her a witch.

  Sighing deeply, she continued. “He was a descendent of the Celtic Earls of Atholl, descended from the line of kings of Dalriada, hotheaded, arrogant, but he—like others of his ilk—had King Alexander’s favor. He was the laird’s son, and though he appreciated that I was King Alexander’s cousin, he did not like the dowry offered. But his da forced him to take me, saying my uncle had no other living relative to hand down his title and lands to, and these would be his someday if Robertson wed me.”

  She swallowed hard, her eyes misting to her annoyance. “He was a drunkard and mean-hearted. I begged Alexander to reconsider.” Tears streaked down her cheeks, which she quickly brushed away.

  “Milady…”

  She motioned for his silence, but could not look at him. “’Twas my sixteenth birthday, and my uncle gave a grand feast to celebrate. I was to wed Robertson on the morrow, but my uncle wished to have a hunt that afternoon to provide more meat for the wedding feast. Robertson was well into his cups, but I wished no part of him, or his crude actions. I was praying for a miracle, that he would die before I wed the beast.” She paused, unable to go on.

  Sniffling, she finally said, “Don’t ever pray for something that badly, or you may get your wish. I refused to go on the hunt, yet Robertson and his brothers goaded me into it. I wish I could say he was truly an evil man, but he had some good in him. He had a small son, whom he loved dearly for one, and…”

  She shook her head. “He’d rescued his sister, abused by her husband. But from the moment Robertson saw me, he despised me. Whenever my uncle was around, Robertson pretended to care for me, but when my uncle was not, Robertson played his true self, cruel and bitter. I always thought there was another woman, that he intended to take me for his bride, but as soon as he could take my uncle’s estates to call his own, he would have murdered me and married this other woman. I thought I saw them rendezvous in the woods, or near the loch. Still, many a husband takes a mistress and the poor wife has naught to say about it. But I transgress.