A Protector in the Highlands

by Heather McCollum

  “But not a school?” Scarlet asked as she spread butter on a roll.

  “Nay,” Finlay said. “Which is why I wish to send my sister to Finlarig.”

  Scarlet took a small bite, chewing. From the corner of his gaze, Aiden watched her slender throat swallow, making his mouth go dry. He took a long drink from his tankard.

  “Tell me, Chief Menzies, why you do not have a wall around Castle Menzies?” she said.

  “Don’t need one,” he answered with a smile. “Our warriors are known for their fierceness, so we are never bothered.”

  “That sounds like a challenge, Menzies,” Aiden said without looking up from his plate.

  Finlay chuckled. “We are always up for a challenge, Campbell.”

  Scarlet tipped her head, regarding Finlay. “Strange how you do not worry about the English.”

  Finlay took a drink and smiled. “Like I said, we are renowned.”

  The conversation started up slowly along the rest of the table. The food was well seasoned and hearty, but Aiden noticed that Scarlet ate little, preferring the stew that was served from the iron pot. He turned back to his plate. All English women must eat sparingly.

  A bubbling of high-pitched laughter brought Aiden’s head up, and his gaze joined the others to turn toward the arched throughway to the back of the castle. A rustling of skirts preceded a lass with reddish hair and wide eyes over a full smile. Plump and joyful, she practically ran into the hall. “Halò!” she called in greeting. The Campbell men pushed back their chairs and stood.

  Finlay snorted and kept his seat, though several of his men stood. “And here she comes, the banshee of Castle Menzies.” Finlay threw a hand out toward her. “Cicilia Menzies, meet Lady Scarlet Worthington.”

  “Hello,” she said, her smile dipping slightly. Her gaze took in the Campbells around the table. It stopped on Aiden, her one brow rising as if she were appreciating his appearance.

  Scarlet rose, but Cicilia motioned for her to return to her seat. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your meal, Lady Worthington,” she said, taking a seat across from her, where one of the Menzies men had vacated.

  Scarlet smiled pleasantly. “Please, call me Scarlet.”

  “And ye can call me Cici,” the happy woman said and grabbed a plate, adding meat and a roll to it. Her gaze moved back to Aiden. “Now, I know who some of ye are, Aiden Campbell,” she said, and he bowed his head toward her. He remembered her from a harvest several years ago. She seemed just as boisterous as she had been then, though her father had still been alive and had tempered her exuberance with his bellows and frowns. “Did ye all come to welcome me home?”

  Scarlet cleared her throat. “We were actually invited to Castle Menzies by your brother to inspect a small flock of sheep, which I plan to purchase for my brother.”

  Cici turned her smile on Scarlet. She lowered her voice to a hush that still reached everyone in the hall. “That’s right. Your brother stole Finlarig from Grey Campbell, but then Grey fell in love…” She clasped her hands before her heart. “And won an English lady’s heart and his castle back. So romantic.”

  Scarlet smiled. “I suppose it was.”

  Cici leaned forward. “Are they really soooo in love?”

  “They certainly seem to be,” Scarlet said and took a sip from her cup. “So Cici, your brother mentioned that you might be interested in attending our new Highland Roses School for ladies, at Finlarig Castle.”

  Cici’s eyes widened, and she glanced at Finlay, who’d taken another long drink of his ale. “Getting rid of me so soon?” she asked but didn’t sound disgruntled.

  “Certainly,” Finlay responded with a broad smile. He coughed into his fist and rested his hand on Scarlet’s on the table. “Lady Worthington is teaching lasses to read and cipher. Even though ye’ve been taught letters and your name, your simple mind hasn’t caught on to reading.”

  Aiden frowned as he watched Scarlet slide her hand out from under Finlay’s. She looked to Cici. “I’m sure you have a very clever mind. We would love to have you as a student. Our curriculum includes etiquette, art, and practical endeavors, including how to defend oneself.”

  “Defend oneself?” Finlay asked, his face splitting with laughter. “And how would a lass defend herself?”

  Kerrick sat across from Aiden, his usual grin gone. “Lady Scarlet could probably kill ye in ten seconds, Menzies.”

  Both Finlay and Cici raised their eyebrows to their hairlines at the same time, making Aiden almost laugh. Despite the differences in their statures, they had the same humorous expressions, likely inherited from their mother, since their father had been a grim old cur.

  Everyone stared at Scarlet. She didn’t recoil at the attention but tipped her chin a bit higher. “I wouldn’t put my skills to the test,” she said with a confident smile, “else find yourself skewered.”

  Silence followed for several heartbeats before Cici leaped up. “I will pack now.” Everyone around the table laughed.

  “Good God,” Finlay said. “Loud and lethal. How will I marry ye off, then, Cici?”

  “It will take a strong, confident, and kind man to win my heart, brother,” she answered, taking up her plate to walk toward the back. She flapped her hand at Scarlet. “Just let Fin know the school fees. We may have suffered a bad harvest for hay, but our Da saved gold like a miser. Best to spend it before Finlay spreads it around.”

  Finlay leaned low across the table toward Scarlet. “I think ye’ll be going back with a flock of sheep and a high-spirited virago.” He pushed himself back up, reminding Aiden of a man with too much whisky dulling his mind. Maybe his tankard held something stronger than ale.

  Aiden rose. “We’ve supped. Time to see the sheep, Menzies.”

  “All right, Campbell,” Finlay said, his humor muted, but he returned a smile to Scarlet, standing. “Lady Scarlet, to your flock.”

  Aiden watched Finlay help her into her red cloak that the maid returned. She murmured her thanks, and before Finlay could offer her his thin arm, Aiden took up her hand. Slightly startled, she looked down where he held it. He laid it on his own arm, turning to lead her toward the door. Her fingers curled into his sleeve, and he glanced her way. The hint of a smile touched her lips, and she gave him a slight nod. Aye, she wanted nothing to do with the buffoon.

  “Well, then,” Finlay mumbled, hustling around the front to grab his scabbard by the door. The sword clattered in its holder as he wrapped the belt around his middle. “This way,” he said, pushing through the doors.

  Aiden followed, keeping Scarlet close where he could keep her safe. She was his responsibility while Grey was gone. As temporary chief and a warrior of Clan Campbell. Not because she smelled of flowers and her eyes sparkled with unguarded joy when she flew like the wind on her horse. They stepped out through the doors of the keep, and Scarlet gasped, stepping closer into him.

  Bloody hell.

  The world had disappeared.

  Chapter Four

  White and gray. That was all Scarlet could see. Wind whipped ice about them as she clung to Aiden’s strong arm. Finlay, two steps down, was nearly obscured by the tempest. It was if snow had engulfed the world.

  “This way,” Finlay called, arm raised as he trotted down.

  “I’ve got ye.” Aiden’s warm breath slid along her cheek as he spoke close to her ear. She felt him tug her hood up, covering her head. Down they stepped into the white wash. She linked her arm tighter with Aiden’s, her shoulder right up against him.

  Kerrick cursed in Gaelic. He appeared through the snow on her other side. Flanked by the two large Highlanders, she felt less of the wind’s bite, but it still pushed through her woolen cape, making her feel like she was drowning in the storm. “How in hell are we leaving in this?” Kerrick asked over her head.

  “We will wait for it to abate,” Aiden answered. The wind shrieked, trying to steal his words away, a warning that he, too, could be snatched up in such a storm.

  Ahead, the dark sh
ape of a structure began to emerge. “Inside,” she called above the wind, feeling the prickles of snow hitting her face. Fingers numb under the thin leather of her gloves, Scarlet pressed forward, tripping on an unseen rock. She gave a small, unheard gasp as her feet left the ground, and she realized that Aiden had lifted her against him, his arms around her waist as they thrust ahead and pushed inside a small barn.

  They breathed hard against one another, and she looked up into his face. His eyebrows, hair, and short beard were iced over with snow, making him look like a frosty barbarian. She reached up to dust his brows with her hand. He blinked as the crystals fell down to his cheeks to melt. He backed up and shook his head like a wet dog. Scarlet dragged her cloak from her head.

  “Wild weather today,” Finlay said as he turned toward them. “Looks like ye’ll have to stay the night.” He clapped his hands in one loud crack, making the sheep startle in the corner. “And if ye find fault with my flock, a couple of these will make us a fine lamb stew.”

  Whether he’d issued the threat as a business strategy or not, Scarlet knew that she’d never surrender the little bleating lambs to a stew. Within moments she agreed to purchase the flock and the ram, who was kept separate.

  “See that they are brought over after the storm abates,” Aiden said. “And there will be coin.”

  “Yes,” Scarlet said. “I will pay twenty pounds for the full flock, including the ram.”

  Finlay raised his arms in the air. “This calls for a celebration!”

  …

  Scarlet sipped at the dark wine that the Menzies had served with venison pie and fresh bread. For dessert, sugared apples were placed in bowls with frothed cow’s milk, and a barrel of whisky had been tapped. Musicians wielded their instruments in the corner as if it were a festival, and a dozen villagers had braved the storm to eat and dance. Wood smoke mixed with the smells from the food and dancing people.

  Aiden stood with Kerrick on the other side of the room, where Cici laughed and spoke with large gestures. Scarlet sipped the dry wine and leaned back against the edge of the table, watching Aiden. Even at a party, the man was ready for battle, his legs braced and his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He interjected a word or two, but Kerrick seemed to be the one to carry the conversation. Aiden turned his body and scanned the room. Scarlet kept her eyes on him, and when their gazes met, Aiden said something to Cici and strode toward Scarlet.

  Scarlet took another sip of wine, her toe tapping to the rhythm of the drum. Aiden dodged a line of dancers and lowered his weight into the chair next to her.

  “Seems Chief Menzies needs little reason for a celebration,” he said, his mouth close to her ear.

  A tickle of awareness shot along her skin. “No wonder he needs the gold,” she said, watching Finlay laughing with some of his warriors. They all had been drinking whisky freely, along with several flirtatious young ladies from the village. At first, Scarlet thought to talk to the women about the school, but they seemed to become drunk quickly.

  She frowned, a tightness in her chest. “I wish we weren’t stuck here,” she said. The wind and snow had become bars around this merry cell. Unease hardened her spine.

  “Aye,” Aiden answered. “The storm is slowing, but it is late. Better to head back in the morning.” He didn’t sound any happier than she about their circumstances.

  The music continued, and Scarlet watched Cici tug Kerrick out to dance with the others. His gaze kept drifting toward Aiden and her, which was probably why he tramped on poor Cici’s foot nearly every time they passed one another.

  “You don’t dance?” Scarlet asked Aiden, already knowing the answer.

  “Not for a long time,” Aiden said, his muscular arms obvious through his shirt as he crossed them over his chest.

  Scarlet’s eyebrows rose. “Pardon? Do you mean to say that at one time you did dance? This brutal, ornery Highland warrior?”

  He cut a glance her way. “I was taught. As a lad, when I had little say in the matter.”

  Scarlet tipped her head to the side. “Which dances?”

  He nodded to the line across the floor, ladies on one side with men on the other, passing through the middle and turning. “You know how to dance a minuet?” she asked, her voice full of surprise.

  Aiden pointed one finger down and spun it slowly. “Along with some turns where I would lift the woman.”

  “You know La Volta?” Scarlet turned her body toward him. “Who are you, Aiden Campbell?”

  The ghost of a smile played across his full lips, making his features darkly handsome. He’d taken some time before the meal to wash and trim his short beard, shaving the rest smooth. He grunted a laugh but didn’t answer.

  As the song ended and another began, Kerrick turned around, his gaze going directly toward Scarlet. “Oh dear,” Scarlet murmured without moving her lips. “I fear my feet will be trampled very soon.”

  Aiden’s smile faded, though he raised an eyebrow as if in jest. “Not if you’re standing before him. Finlay’s sister suffered because he kept looking over here.”

  Scarlet sighed. “Blast, here he comes.” She took another sip of wine, hiding her lips in the cup. “Help,” she said.

  Aiden cursed in Gaelic next to her, inhaled deeply, and pushed up out of his seat. “Come along then.” He held out his arm. Scarlet just stared at it for a moment. “Quickly, before he reaches us.”

  She leaped up, taking his arm. “I would love to take one turn of the dance before retiring,” she said. “Thank you, Aiden. Oh, hello, Kerrick. Aiden is taking me through the steps before I head to bed.”

  “Aiden?” Kerrick asked, incredulous as Scarlet had been. “The steps are tricky.”

  Aiden said nothing, just marched out toward the line with Scarlet on his arm. She couldn’t keep her smile inside and nearly laughed at the look from the other guests, wide-eyed surprise and suspicion from the ladies’ suitors.

  Scarlet was familiar with stares on the ballroom floor, as she’d been paraded around the English court, her father wishing her to make a profitable marriage match. Her stomach fluttered with a slice of panic at the memory of her risky, flirtatious behavior, and the consequences that haunted her still. Her steps faltered, making Aiden glance her way, a question in his eyes.

  She gave a quick smile and opened her eyes wide. “I must still be in shock,” she said, rotating her free hand toward him and then the dancers. He gave a small chuckle and left her at the end of the line of females. Cici waved to them both from four partners higher in line.

  The musicians began another minuet, and she guessed that Aiden would work a few La Volta turns into it as some had done during the previous dance. Schooled from the age of five, Scarlet knew dance steps forward, backward, and sideways. She doubted Castle Menzies could throw anything at her that she couldn’t swiftly grasp. At Hollings Estate, her mother would receive published pamphlets on the updated dances yearly and tutor her daughters and son on the current tweaks to the traditional steps before they left for court.

  Instead of gilt walls, bright mirrors, richly costumed courtier peacocks, and a thousand flickering candles in golden chandeliers, Scarlet took the graceful steps to the music surrounded by stone walls and simple country people. She smiled broadly. Even if the Menzies whispered about the dirt on her riding habit or that she’d left her hair down and unadorned, they were not the viperish whispers of the royal elite.

  Scarlet passed Aiden, twisting her head to keep their gazes tethered. After another pass, she began to relax and followed Aiden as he added a small step in the middle of their pass to add a level of complexity. She nodded and kept his gaze, their bodies moving together to slide past each other at the last moment. It was like a caress, and prickles of awareness spread across Scarlet’s skin. The music continued, and the laughter around them faded as Aiden pulled her complete attention, his dark, serious eyes looking deeply into her. Normally, she would look away, laugh, or make light of some pretended misstep that she didn’t take, but
Aiden’s gaze reached inside her.

  He stepped close, his hands reaching for her middle. La Volta. With his large, strong grasp, he lifted her, spinning her past him in an elegant turn, and Scarlet stepped right back into the minuet with a grace that had been pressed into her. Again, they approached, and again, he reached, his warm hands holding her waist, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. And through it all, they ignored the onlookers, the world around them. Only the music, the rush of her blood, and the feel of Aiden’s gaze and hands mattered. It was like being caught up in a dream—not a nightmarish memory but something new and exhilarating. She trusted his steps and hold, his strong gaze securing them together so they moved as one.

  With one last La Volta turn, the music ended, and Aiden let his hands slide down her waist so that she could back up. For a heartbeat, Scarlet stood there in the center of the floor. People clapping set her in motion, and she joined the applause. But when she looked around, she realized that instead of applauding the musicians, everyone seemed to be looking at Aiden and her. She gave a brief curtsey to Aiden, and he took her arm, escorting her toward the arched alcove that led to the bedroom she’d been given above.

  “Nay,” Finlay called out, following them. He tripped, looking down as if the floor had sprung up on purpose to foil his grace. “Wait, Scarlet. I would have a dance with ye.”

  They turned to watch the young man right his shirt and run a hand through his longish hair. With a flourish, which only showcased how much whisky he’d consumed, he bowed. “Lady Scarlet, may I have the honor of—”

  “Forgive me, Chief Menzies,” Scarlet cut in. “I find that I am exhausted from the travel today and will be retiring for the night.”

  Finlay’s red face screwed up into a playful scowl, and he huffed. “Blast. Ye are the loveliest lass on the floor this eve.” His glance went to Aiden. “Lucky bastard. Stole her right out from under me.”

  Scarlet felt the muscles in Aiden’s arm tighten, and she drew herself upright. “Sir,” she snapped. “Your insinuation against your guests are rude, and I am not, nor ever will be under you. I must think your base lack of manners stems from consuming whisky and your lack of years. Your mother would certainly be ashamed.”