The Highlander's Promise

  Aulay was halfway across the clearing to the lodge when the sight of Mavis coming out of the woods with a basket over her arm made him slow. She was a bit damp, but not soaking, so he supposed she must have found shelter from the worst of the storm. Aulay waited for her and nodded in greeting when she glanced up and noticed him.

  "Ye're back, m'laird," she said solemnly as she approached. "Got caught in the storm I see."

  "Aye. It hit just as we started back," he admitted.

  Mavis nodded. "Fortunately, I was on me way back and near a large old oak when the storm started. It kept the worst of the rain off of me," she told him and then gestured to the basket she carried. "I went to see if I could find some eggs for lunch," she explained, drawing his gaze to the eggs nestled in the basket she carried. "I happened on a quail's nest and thought I'd make some papyns for the lass, and then I found several more nests so there is enough fer all o' us."

  Despite having just eaten, Aulay smiled faintly at the thought of poached eggs in a golden sauce.

  "I take it Simon found ye?" she commented, regaining his attention.

  "Aye. He said ye told him where to find us?"

  Mavis nodded. "He arrived just as I was leaving to look fer eggs. I refused to tell him where ye were at first. Did no' want him to ruin the lass's first excursion out o' the lodge, but when he told me what had happened, I kenned I had to send him yer way. Did Rory leave with him?"

  "Aye," Aulay murmured. "Simon arrived just after we finished breaking our fast and Rory left right away with him."

  Mavis nodded and then sighed wearily as she led the way to the lodge door. "'Tis a terrible thing about young Katie."

  "Aye," he agreed solemnly, following her inside and pulling the door closed behind them.

  "Is the lass back in her room?" Mavis asked, glancing around as she crossed to the cookstove.

  "She must be," Aulay murmured, noting that the main floor was empty. He glanced toward the upper landing and saw that the door to their room was closed.

  "Did she get as wet as ye are?" Mavis asked with a narrowing gaze.

  "Unfortunately, aye," Aulay admitted, not happy at the fact. "I told her to warm herself by the cookstove, but--"

  "She probably wanted to get out o' her wet clothes quick as she could," Mavis said, bringing him to a halt. Aulay had been heading for the stairs intending to check on her, but paused at that, quite sure walking in on her naked would not aid him in keeping his promise to his brother.

  "I'll just set these aside for now and go check on the lass ere I cook 'em. She may want a bath to warm her up after her soaking," Mavis said, placing the basket on the table. She turned toward the stairs, and then paused and shook her head sadly. "Poor, wee Katie. Such a pretty lass with all that long black hair, and such a sweet girl too. Hard to believe anyone would want her dead."

  "I'm sure 'twas an accident," Aulay said, surprised that she'd think otherwise. "A stray arrow from a hunter."

  Mavis turned to peer at him with amazement. "A stray arrow from a hunter? She was shot just as they reached the drawbridge. What hunting would anyone be doing there?"

  Aulay stiffened at this news. "The drawbridge?"

  "Aye, that's what young Simon said," she announced firmly. "And whoever shot could no' be aiming at young Geordie either . . . unless they thought to shoot right through young Katie and into him. She was hit midback and straight on, Simon said." Mavis shook her head again and started up the stairs, muttering, "Nay, someone has it in fer our Katie. Someone who kens their way around a bow and arrow too. Lord help us, I do no' ken what the world is coming to when sweet young lasses like Katie are . . ."

  Aulay didn't catch the rest. The woman had continued up the stairs as she spoke, her voice fading with each step. Frowning, he turned and moved to peer out the window, thinking that if what Mavis said was true, then Katie's getting shot was attempted murder. And, as laird, he should be looking into it right that moment. He should be finding the culprit and seeing them punished. The safety of the people of Buchanan was his responsibility, and he should be on his way back right that minute. Not loafing about at the lodge, trying not to make love to a woman who thought she was his wife, but wasn't.

  Hands clenching into fists, Aulay whirled from the window and hurried upstairs, arranging things in his mind as he went. He couldn't take Jetta with him. She had no clothes. But he wouldn't leave her alone out here either. He'd leave Mavis with her for now, but he'd also send his uncle and half a dozen soldiers to guard them both until he could return. Or until he could find some damned dresses for the lass and bring her to join him at Buchanan. And he'd be quick about finding the culprit behind shooting Katie with the arrow. It shouldn't be that hard. As he recalled, she was a sweet young girl. In fact, the only motive he could think of for anyone wishing her harm was jealousy, either of her beauty, or of the attention Geordie showed her. His brother had proven himself quite taken with the lass these last couple months. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if Geordie told him he wished to marry the girl.

  Aulay frowned at the thought as he stepped off the stairs and started along the landing. He wasn't sure what he would do if and when that time finally came. Geordie was a nobleman, son of a baron, and Katie was the bastard daughter of a kitchen maid. That kind of union simply wasn't considered acceptable as a rule. At least not by most. The idea didn't bother him, though, but he did have to consider Geordie's future and how others would accept such a union.

  Pondering that as he reached the bedroom door, Aulay opened it, strode inside and then came to an abrupt halt as he recalled why he'd been waiting below in the first place. Because Mavis was helping Jetta change. They weren't done with that task. Jetta was standing completely naked by the bed. The shift and plaid she'd been wearing were a soggy heap on the floor at her feet, and Mavis was approaching with a clean, dry shift for her to don. For one moment, Aulay let his gaze travel over all that beautiful naked flesh. He noted that she'd filled out a bit this last week and a half since she'd woken up, and that the bruises that had still been a faded nasty yellow when last he'd seen them were now completely gone, and then his gaze lifted to her face and he saw that she had spotted him and was staring at him wide-eyed and obviously embarrassed.

  Jetta wasn't trying to cover herself though, he noted. And why should she? She thought him her husband with every right to look on her naked, he realized.

  "I have to go," he said finally.

  "Oh, m'laird," Mavis said with surprise. She peered at him wide-eyed and then glanced from him to Jetta and back, and simply dropped the shift over the lass's head and helped her get her arms through the arm holes. The maid then turned to him and asked politely, "Ye were saying?"

  "I have to go," Aulay repeated, still staring at Jetta. In his mind he could still see her standing there gloriously nude.

  "And where're ye going, m'laird?" Mavis asked patiently.

  Aulay finally shifted his gaze to the maid. Only then was he able to regather his thoughts. Giving his head a shake, he cleared his throat and said, "I am returning to Buchanan to look into this matter with Katie. But I'll send Uncle Acair and some soldiers back to guard ye until I return."

  Risking a look at Jetta, he noted her upset, and sighed. "I'm sorry, lass. I'd take ye with me, but we have no clothes fer ye yet. I'll see to that too while I'm there and bring ye back some pretty dresses to wear so ye're no' stuck here."

  He watched several emotions cross her face; upset, worry, even fear and disappointment, but then she schooled her features into a calm expression, straightened her shoulders and nodded. "Very well, husband. Safe travels."

  Aulay nodded and turned to the door, but then hesitated. It simply didn't feel right leaving her like this. Whirling back, he crossed the room and bent, intending to press a quick kiss to her forehead. She, however, tipped her head up at the last moment and his kiss landed on her mouth. The moment his lips met hers, Aulay gave up the idea of a quick kiss, and instead claimed her mouth properly.

&n
bsp; Jetta needed no coaxing. Her mouth opened at once on a little sigh and when he felt her hands creep around his neck, he slid his own around her waist and pulled her close, then let his hands glide down her body until they cupped her bottom. Squeezing, Aulay lifted her slightly and straightened a bit, the action rubbing her groin against his, and then he eased her back to the floor and reluctantly broke their kiss.

  "I have to go," he murmured again. "The safety of me people is me responsibility."

  "Aye," she whispered solemnly. "Be safe, husband."

  "And you, wife, stay safe until I return," he ordered huskily, and then, ignoring Mavis's raised eyebrows, he turned and strode quickly from the room before he changed his mind and took her to his bed instead. The woman was like some kind of madness in his blood. He walked around wanting her all the time. These last days of refusing to allow himself to touch her had been an agony. He really needed to find out who she was and set things to rights there. If he didn't soon do that, he feared that--despite his promises to Rory--he would end up bedding the lass and trapping her into having to marry him.

  And don't think that idea didn't hold a hell of a lot of appeal to him. Having Jetta in his life always. A warm, welcoming wife who seemed blind to his scars and greeted him with eagerness. The only problem was, he suspected all of that would disappear did she learn they weren't really married. He suspected she was just making the best of the situation she found herself in, and that if she learned they weren't married and she could leave . . . she would.

  It was what Adaira had done. Betrothed since birth, they'd grown up as neighbors, always knowing they would someday marry. They'd both been perfectly happy with it. They'd even loved each other, or so she'd said and he'd believed. But when he'd returned home scarred from battle, she'd taken one look at his ruined face and screamed in horror . . . and then she claimed him more monster than man and refused to marry him.

  When her father had tried to force the marriage, announcing that it would go on as planned, she'd threatened to kill herself or flee to take the veil. Much to Aulay's relief, her father had relented then and broken the contract. By that point, he'd had no interest in marrying the woman himself. She wasn't, after all, the woman he'd thought her to be and he didn't want a wife who saw him as a monster. Even so, he would have married her to fulfill the contract if the father hadn't broken it. His honor would have demanded it.

  Striding outside, Aulay walked to the small stable they'd built at the edge of the clearing to fetch and saddle his mount. He then led the beast out into the yard. His gaze slid to the bedroom window as he mounted. Spotting Jetta in the window, watching him as he settled in his saddle, he paused briefly and peered back at her for a moment. But then he raised his hand in a wave, turned his mount and headed off. It was surprisingly wrenching to leave her.

  He'd pulled her from the water more than four weeks ago, but she hadn't been awake for more than twelve days, and yet he felt as if she'd been a part of his life for much longer. In fact, it was hard to recall his life before her arrival in it. Aulay didn't know how that had happened, but he needed to do something about it. He needed to toughen his heart against her . . . else he wouldn't survive when she finally left him.

  Chapter 6

  "There now, he's gone," Mavis said gently as they watched Aulay disappear into the trees. "Come sit yerself down and let me dry yer hair by the fire, lass. Then ye can come below with me and I'll make ye some lovely papyns fer the nooning."

  "We just broke our fast," Jetta protested with amusement as she allowed Mavis to urge her away from the window.

  "Aye, but by the time I get yer hair dry and make the papyns, 'twill be the nooning," the old servant assured her as she positioned her before the fire. Leaving her there, Mavis moved off to drag over one of the chairs from the table.

  Jetta settled obediently in the chair and then closed her eyes as the woman set to work. First, Mavis used a fresh linen to soak up the worst of the water from her hair, and then she tossed that aside and set to work brushing the still-damp strands. She used long repetitive strokes, drawing the brush through Jetta's hair and lifting the damp tresses away from her scalp and neck so that the strands rose with the brush and then dropped to lay flat again, the action helping to dry it. It was oddly soothing, and Jetta nearly fell asleep in her chair before Mavis decided her hair was dry enough.

  "There we are, that should do," Mavis announced, setting the brush aside. She turned back to survey her then and frowned slightly. "Ye look a bit tired, lass. Did ye still want to come below with me or would ye rather nap?"

  "Oh nay! No nap." Jetta stood up at once, and tried to look more alert as she assured her, "I shall come below." It would be her second time out of the room since waking, and both in the same day. It wasn't something she wanted to give up on. Just the thought of it brightened her mood considerably.

  "Verra well. Ye can sit at the table and keep me company while I cook," Mavis said brightly as she led her to the door. "And I'll tell ye all about wee Katie while I cook."

  "The girl who was shot with the arrow?" Jetta asked. The maid had mentioned it as she'd helped her undress before Aulay had arrived.

  "Aye, poor wee lass," Mavis said with a shake of the head as they started up the hall. "Ye remind me a bit o' her, actually. She's tiny and has long black hair too. O' course, she has it all o'er whereas Rory had to shave the back o' yer head. Still, otherwise, the two o' ye are quite alike."

  Grimacing, Jetta raised a hand self-consciously to the back of her head.

  Catching the action, Mavis clucked her tongue. "Oh, now, do no' fret, it'll grow back quick enough. Besides, it obviously does no' bother the laird. Just look at how he sticks close and rarely leaves yer side. Why I've never seen the man so happy. At least, no' since that Stuart bitch broke his heart."

  Jetta's eyes widened in surprise at the curse, and she asked, "The Stuart . . . ?"

  "Bitch," Mavis said helpfully as they started down the stairs, and then shook her head with disgust. "I do no' often cuss, and I do dislike calling another woman such a name, but that lass is one deserving o' it. She was a piece o' work, that one. I was no' at all surprised when she refused to marry our Aulay after he was scarred."

  "She refused to marry him because of the scar?" Jetta asked with outrage.

  "Aye, and no' kindly. Said he was a monster, she did, and that she'd rather die than have to look at his face all the rest o' her days. And him still in his sickbed, barely alive when she did it too," she added grimly.

  "Bitch," Jetta breathed, horrified that anyone could be so cruel to such a kind man.

  "There now, I told ye, did I no'?" Mavis said with satisfaction. "Aye, Adaira Stuart was a true bitch. She had most o' the nobles fooled thinking her sweet and kind, but no' me or any other servant she encountered. Adaira was sweet as honey on the tongue to all the men and any noble lady about, but get her alone in a room with a servant and she showed her true colors quick enough."

  "She was unkind to the servants?" Jetta asked with a scowl. Her mother had taught her that one should always be kind to servants. She'd taught her to be kind to everyone, but especially peasants and servants. She'd said that their lives were hard, their days long and full of backbreaking labor, and they should be shown every kindness by those they worked so hard for. Of course, her father had never--

  Jetta stopped walking abruptly as she suddenly realized she was remembering something. Of course, the moment she realized that she was remembering something, the thoughts in her head dried up like a puddle under a hot sun.

  "What is it, lass? Are ye all right?" Mavis asked with concern.

  "Aye," Jetta sighed, and then forced a smile and continued down the stairs with her as she admitted, "Your words just made me remember something my mother once said."

  "Ye got a memory back?" Mavis asked, obviously happy for her at the thought.

  "Aye, a small one," she admitted, smiling faintly, and then squeezing the maid's hand, she suggested, "Mayhap if ye keep t
alking I'll remember more."

  "Oh, well then, I'll talk til I'm blue in the face, m'lady. That I will," she assured her cheerfully as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped off. Ushering her to a large wooden table with benches on either side, she said, "Now you just sit yerself down and I'll tell ye all about the nasty cow what broke our laird's heart."

  Nodding, Jetta settled at the table to watch as Mavis started puttering about. After a moment though, she paused and lifted her head to sniff the air with a small frown. "Is something burning?"

  Mavis stilled at the question, her own nose rising and beginning to twitch, and then her head turned sharply toward the fire and she rushed to it with an alarmed cry. "Me stew!"

  Standing, Jetta followed and peered over the woman's shoulder as she cursed under her breath and began to poke at the stew over the fire with a wooden spoon.

  "I suspected Rory had no' remembered the water and I did plan to check on it," she muttered with irritation. "That lad is always forgetting to do what I ask him. Ye'd think a lad bright as that could hold on to a thought fer more than a minute." Clucking, she added on a sigh, "But then mayhap he has too many thoughts in his head to hold on to a one." Shaking her head, she muttered, "I ken I should ha'e checked it, and I did plan to, but he said he had added the water, and then what with Simon arriving and me heading out to find eggs, and then the storm, I plum forgot . . ."

  Tsking with irritation, she set the spoon aside and moved off to grab a bit of cloth to protect her hands as she lifted the pot off the hook over the fire. "Get the door for me, please lass."

  Hurrying ahead of her, Jetta opened the door so Mavis could carry the pot out, but as the woman passed, she suggested, "Mayhap it can still be saved. Perhaps if ye scooped out the burned bits and--"

  "Nay, lass. The charred flavor will be all through the stew. 'Tis fine though. I planned on papyns for the nooning meal, and there's still plenty o' time fer me to get some more stew going fer the sup. Now, just you go sit down, I will no' be a minute getting rid of this."

  Jetta watched her walk off toward the stables. At least, she thought she was headed to the stables, but the maid paused and tipped the heavy pot to dump its contents on the ground at the base of a tree next to the stables. Sighing, Jetta pushed the door closed and moved to sit at the table again and wait as she'd been instructed.