Winning the Highlander's Heart

  The courtiers’ conversation ceased.

  “You had not been married,” the baron said, outraged.

  “Aye, that we had. His brothers and my groom witnessed the wedding. We are verra much married.”

  The baron sat back down.

  To her surprise, he didn’t make a move to leave. She was certain he was thinking if he could kill her uncle, he could kill the MacNeill brothers, too. The difference this time was her people knew. However, he must have figured they didn’t have the proof to convict him of the crime or the king would have already sent for him.

  Still, not only did they have to prove the baron was behind the murders, somehow she had to find the traitor in their midst.

  Conan and the men returned to the keep and when he saw her sitting at the head table, he looked at the baron who motioned for him to take his seat.

  Malcolm leaned over to her and whispered, “Think you your people will mind if I cut the meal short?”

  She grinned at him and with a hushed voice responded, “You have a mind to ravish me, do ye?”

  “Aye, lass. Just what I have in mind.”

  The bread was cut, with the top of the crust served to Malcolm. He looked at Anice as if to see if she wished the first piece. She motioned for him to give it to the baron.

  When an omelet of eggs mixed with almonds, currant, saffron and honey was served, Anice considered it. Turning to Malcolm, she whispered, “Share my meal with me, milaird.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then getting her meaning, nodded. “Aye, and your drink, lass, if you dinna mind too much.” He set aside his tankard.

  “Nay, ‘tis safer that way, my husband,” she whispered back.

  “Something wrong with your meal?” the baron asked.

  Anice knew Baron Fontenot would mention the fact Malcolm wouldn’t eat his meal. Did it perturb the baron that he couldn’t kill her husband so easily? If she could, she’d force the baron to drink and eat Malcolm’s portions. When he refused, their case against him would be more assured.

  “Nay,” Malcolm said to the baron, “there is naught wrong with my food. The lass and I grew used to sharing our meals on the journey here. Romantic, dinna you think?” He shoved his eggs to the baron. “But do have mine. You must be ravenous from your travels and nay sense in wasting food.”

  Anice stifled a grin.

  The baron pushed the omelet away. “One is enough for me. Two would appear glutinous. You may give it to the poor, if you desire.”

  Malcolm motioned to the young man serving them. “Give my omelet and all of those foods prepared for me to Sir Conan.” He pointed the baron’s knight out. “He is a good stout man and nay doubt needs more to eat.”

  “Aye, milaird,” the curly, redheaded man said, then quickly carried the omelet to Conan’s table.

  Conan glanced at the baron, who made no response. The knight nodded at the redhead, then the young man returned to the kitchen.

  Conan watched Anice, his look pure menace. Would he eat the meal that had been served to Malcolm? Or would he find some way to dispose of it?

  Malcolm leaned over and kissed Anice’s lips. ‘Twas not a simple kiss either, but one of feeling that forced a slow burn to sizzle deep inside her. She kissed him back, too, forgetting for the moment her people watched her every move. Her hands slid to his waist while his held onto hers. ‘Twas not for the baron’s benefit she touched Malcolm’s tongue with her own, nor pressed her lips against his with as much enthusiasm. She loved him with all her heart and would give him up for no one.

  When they separated, her breathing was fast and her heart beat way out of bounds.

  Hearty laughter and cheers filled the hall. Her cheeks burned and the area between her legs ached with renewed gusto.

  Malcolm slid his hand over her thigh. In a hushed voice he said, “You are entertaining your courtiers in good spirits this eve.”

  “They have never seen me kiss a husband of mine before. ‘Tis a new experience for them.”

  “Aye, one they will soon get used to.” He finished drinking the wine from her tankard and waved for the butler to refill it.

  After they shared the omelet, a pie filled with pork, beef, honey and peas was served. Only this time the portion was nearly double the size. The redheaded Gavin MacNair who had been serving them, bowed low to Malcolm when he raised a brow in question. He came around the long table between Malcolm and Anice and spoke to him in private so the baron would not hear. “Milaird, I did as you bade, except I did not say your food was being served to Sir Conan. I said you requested double portions for the lady because she is with child.”

  Malcolm’s eyes sparkled and a grin split his face. “Aye,” he said heartily, and slapped the young man on the back. “Think you that you can discover the cook—”

  The man nodded vigorously. “I have my suspicions, milaird. But I would no’ wish to arrest the wrong woman.”

  Anice had never considered one of her women could have been in on the crimes. The notion both sickened and infuriated her.

  “Aye,” Malcolm said aloud, “a special treat for milady will be most welcome.”

  MacNair bowed to Malcolm, then Anice and headed out of the hall.

  Malcolm ran his hand over Anice’s thigh again, sliding her gown up and down her leg. She smiled at him. “If you are trying to warm me up before we retire to bed, you have already done so, milaird.”

  He chuckled. “I will warm you further when we retire, but this will have to do for now.”

  She stilled his hand when his fingers tickled her, and she squashed the laugh that rose in her throat. “What about your brothers’ food? I worry that someone may wish to poison them.”

  “They are eating with the ladies who sit beside them.”

  Anice glanced at his brothers. “Who chose those ladies to sit with them?”

  “Your Mistress Nora did. Does this displease ye?”

  “Nay, I just wondered how they had found two of my most eligible unwed ladies-in-waiting so quickly. Do your brothers nay longer want English brides? I would not wish the ladies to be hopeful.”

  “It seems you might have changed my brothers’ minds.”

  She laughed. “Nay, ‘tis only a bonny lass that will change men’s minds. All of a sudden, nay one else seems to exist.” She looked over at the dark-haired woman, whose dark brown eyes sparkled, while a smile stirred her lips. Indeed, Morrigan seemed pleased with Dougald’s attentions. “You ken, Malcolm, Morrigan was named that by her mother, because she kicked so hard in the womb.”

  Malcolm raised a brow while he observed the lady. “After the war goddess?”

  “Aye. She is also as good an archer as me, even beats me sometimes.”

  He lifted the tankard. “’Tis good to know. A man should always be on the lookout for a woman both comely and brave who could protect her husband when need be.”

  “You are so funny, Malcolm. ‘Tis one of the things I love most about ye.”

  His smile turned wicked. “Mayhap there are other things you love about me.” He looked at the other woman sitting beside Angus. “What of the other lady?”

  “Venetia? She is blessed with a large dowry and heart. She came to serve me two years ago, but there are many who vie for her hand. She will no’ be so easily won over.”

  “Angus looks to be doing no’ so bad a job of it.”

  “Aye,” Anice said as the petite, fair-haired girl leaned over and whispered something to Angus. He smiled, then nodded.

  Anice tsked. “I hope your brothers are investigating these crimes and not just chasing after my ladies-in-waiting.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “This ugly business nay doubt is verra much on their minds. What better way to win your people’s confidence than to befriend two lovely ladies of your court while they begin their duties?”

  Up until now, the baron silently stewed, then he said to Malcolm, “Why did you not tell me the lady was Anice, Countess of Brecken, buried beneath the blanket at the croft?”


  Anice set the tankard down and listened to what the baron had to say, her stomach tightening.

  “Why should I have? She was my wife, you were half frozen, and so were we. We had lost our escort in the storm so we were no’ in the best of moods. Lengthy conversation was not what any of us had on our minds.”

  The baron glared at him, then grinned a wicked look. “I see why you objected to my sleeping with her and drew your sword.”

  “Any man worth his salt would have done the same.”

  “I still cannot believe the byre door flew open and allowed my horse as well as my men’s to escape. Why did you not wake us in the morn when you left? We could have traveled together. Safer in a group.”

  “I had nay idea where you were bound. Your men and you needed rest more than anything after the weather had turned so foul. As for the horses, ‘tis one of those things. I had found the door open when I woke in the morn. It must have happened after a mighty gust, and no’ long before I stepped into the byre. Though I closed it after we departed, the wind must have banged it open again. Even when we first arrived, the door was swinging open in the wind. The owner needs to do some repair work, I venture to say.”

  The baron stared at him for a moment, then finished off his tankard. “You knew I was the king’s choice to wed the lady. Why did you no’ tell me she was the one sleeping beneath the blanket?” he asked again.

  “Nay, I only knew the king had five Norman lairds waiting in line to see her. I hadna idea who they were.” Malcolm buttered a slice of bread.

  The baron poked his knife into his pastry and stabbed a piece of beef. “Where did you marry?”

  ‘Twas a question she dreaded he’d ask, though she was certain it would not matter what Malcolm said, the baron wouldn’t be pleased.

  Dougald jumped from his seat and stalked out of the room with Gavin MacNair. Her marshal hurried after him.

  She sensed Malcolm’s tension and knew he wanted to investigate, but his place was at the head table, protecting her, if need be.

  Everyone grew quiet, hushed conversations here and there. Furtive glances at the head table and the entrance to the hall were shared.

  Malcolm tapped his foot on the floor and watched the hall entrance.

  Anice whispered to Malcolm, “Conan told us he was a bard. Have him entertain us.”

  Malcolm grinned. “Aye, lass, verra clever.” He rose and raised his tankard. Everyone stood. “Lady Anice asks that we greet Sir Conan, the bard, as he entertains us this eve.”

  Conan looked stricken and glanced at the baron as if he waited for his master to rescue him. Two of the baron’s men closest to the knight chuckled.

  The entertainment had already begun.

  When Malcolm took his seat, everyone else did, their attention now resting on the knight, whose face drained of color.

  Malcolm wrapped his fingers around Anice’s hand and kissed it. “You are such a treasure, lass.”

  She smiled at him. “We must outwit them all we can.”

  Two servants came forth with a lyre and lute to accompany him, but Conan waved them away.

  “No’ a singing man,” Malcolm whispered to Anice.

  She smiled. “And I suspect he has nay indelicate wound either.”

  Conan cleared his throat and looked directly at Malcolm with murder in his eyes. “I ask a riddle of ye, good people. I, a lonely wanderer, wounded with the sharp edge of steel, smitten with war blades, worn with the sword-edge, have seen many battles, much horrendous fighting, fearing evermore I shall perish and fall in the fighting of men. The pounding of hammers, the bursting of flame, batter and bite me, hard-edged and sharp; the brunt of the battle I am doomed to endure. There are no herbs or rags to heal or bind my wounds, as day and night with the deadly blows of the war-blades, they double and deepen.”

  Everyone allowed Laird Malcolm the first chance at guessing the riddle as he was laird of the manor. He whispered to Anice, “’Tis a shield.”

  “Aye, ‘tis too easy. I am sure everyone has heard it.”

  “A warrior’s trusted shield, but surely, Sir Knight, you know something more difficult.”

  “Aye, even a wee bairn would know that one,” Angus called out.

  Laughter filled the hall.

  Anice glanced at Angus. She’d never heard him so rowdy before. Had the wine loosened his tongue, or was he trying to impress the lass at his side, or get back at the knight who was not a bard?

  “Another riddle!” MacTavish shouted. “You must stump our new laird this time.”

  Cheers followed and Malcolm raised the tankard. “Aye, impress me.”

  Conan stiffened his back, his face now red. “A strange thing hangs by a man’s thigh, hidden by a garment. ‘Tis stiff and strong with a hole in its head. When the man hitches his clothing high above his knee, he grasps the head of that hanging thing and pokes the hole of fitting size it oft has filled before. Its firm bearing reaps reward.”

  Giggles erupted amongst the ladies while several men discussed the matter with good humor.

  “Do you know the answer, Anice?”

  She shook her head and her cheeks grew hot. “I know ‘tis no’ what it sounds like.”

  “Think you what it sounds like, but is not?” he whispered in her ear.

  Her whole body heated. “That which you prod me with when you have kissed me overmuch.”

  He broke into laughter. Under his breath he said to her, “I promise I will not poke you with the thing he speaks of when we retire to our chamber.” Then he faced Conan. “’Tis a key to unlock the treasury.”

  She laughed with the courtiers.

  “Aye, milord.” Conan seemed pleased his riddle intrigued the crowd better.

  “’Twas a good riddle, do you no’ think?” he asked the courtiers.

  Most everyone cheered. But the baron sullenly waved his tankard for a refill of wine.

  Servants served a custard-type dish of a paste of chicken, blended with rice boiled in almond milk, seasoned with sugar, cooked until very thick, and garnished with fried almonds and anise.

  Malcolm waved to Conan. “Another riddle.”

  The squire placed the double portion of food before Anice, then spoke to Malcolm and Anice in private. “Laird Dougald has taken the cook into custody and wishes you to know he would return to the meal momentarily.”

  “Has he found out who hired her?”

  “Nay, no’ yet. But the Laird Marshal will guard her until we can ensure someone loyal to the murderers doesna silence her.”

  He looked up to see Conan waiting for him to conclude his business with the squire. Before Gavin MacNair left, Anice grabbed the young man’s arm. “Who is she?”

  “A new girl, milady. She was hired about the time of his laird’s death.”

  As soon as the meal was over, she had every intention of speaking with the woman who’d murdered her uncle. Though she never considered herself a violent woman, she’d wring the cook’s neck if she had to get the truth.

  When the squire left, Conan said, “See if you can guess this riddle then if you may. I am scratched by the shin bones of the horse and deer, poked with wooden poles on sunny days, glisten in the sunlight, become bone once more at sunset.”

  “Anice?” Malcolm asked.

  She’d had many a day ice skating in such a manner on Loch Affric. “Aye, frozen water.”

  “The lady has guessed correctly.”

  Everyone cheered.

  Malcolm rose from his seat to conclude the feast. He’d been anxious to end the feast before it had even begun, but the reason had been to get Anice alone with him. But now that a clue to the murder of Anice’s uncle had come to light, he wanted to find out more about that at once.

  He was certain she wished a word with the cook, but he wanted his bride nowhere near anyone who could have done anything so evil. Yet he suspected he was in for another battle if he tried to deny her right to question the woman.

  He straightened his shoulders. He w
as the lord of the manor now and his word was law.

  He raised his arm to escort Anice out of the hall, so that those of the head table could leave afterwards and everyone else quit the room after that.

  Turning to Angus who followed behind him, he said, “Play a board game with the baron. I will join you after a bit.”

  The disappointment in Angus’s face shown. He wanted to see what had occurred with Dougald, too. But Angus also knew Malcolm was his laird for now, and he had just as important a mission to perform. Keep the baron under their watchful eye and from causing more trouble.

  Malcolm motioned to two of Anice’s men. “Join Laird Angus and the baron and have the butler ensure the men are well served.”

  “Aye, milaird.”

  He had no intention of leaving his youngest brother in the baron’s sights without him having men-at-arms to watch his back.

  Malcolm spoke to Nola when she joined them. “Lady MacNeill will retire to her chamber. See that she is ready for me when I return.”

  “You may pull down the coverlet and sprinkle the bed with fresh flowers. I will join you in a little while,” Anice countermanded.

  “Aye, milady.” She looked from Anice to Malcolm.

  “You cannot come with me, Anice,” Malcolm said firmly.

  “I want to speak with the woman, too, milaird. I have every—”

  “I wish it not. ‘Tis bound to get brutal and I dinna wish you to see or hear what is said. Please, do as I ask.”

  She hesitated, then in a huff, she stormed for the stairs.

  He sighed deeply when her ladies hurried after her. Anice was bound to be a terror when he retired with her later that eve. So much for getting her in the mood for what was to come. Yet if she saw their interrogation of the cook, how would that make her feel? Certainly not in the mood for lovemaking either.

  He strode toward the stairs and started down them. Gavin MacNair joined him. “You have sent Cawley to watch over the baron, and he told me to watch over ye, milaird.”

  Malcolm smiled. “The man is a fine Scotsman.”

  “Aye, he says he is glad the lady found a Scot to wed and nay a Norman.”

  Pray the king felt as reassured about the matter as one of Anice’s staff when he learned of their marriage.