Temptation of a Highland Scoundrel: Highland Warriors Book 2

by Welfonder Sue-Ellen

  He wasn’t ready to return.

  Castle Haven’s battlements truly did offer a wealth of opportunity for scouring the landscape. Set as the stronghold was, in the heart of the Glen of Many Legends, the surrounding woods and hills proved irresistible.

  He didn’t often get down this way.

  And now that he was here, he needed to take advantage.

  It would be a wonder, but there was a possibility that the thick pines around Castle Haven held more than mist, shadow, and the smell of resin.

  If so…

  Daire lifted a wispy hand and dashed his cheek. Hope was a beautiful thing.

  He wasn’t abandoning his.

  Chapter 9

  “Where’s Grim?”

  Kendrew glanced sharply at Talon, the warrior riding beside him. Rocky outcrops loomed before them, marking the edge of Cameron land and the beginning of the more rugged, far superior sweep of Nought territory. The small party of Mackintoshes rode hard, making good time since leaving Castle Haven. Until now, they’d also kept together. And Kendrew wasn’t of a mind to halt. Not with his stronghold so near. His hearth fire beckoned, as did a warm meal and a cup – or several cups - of good thirst-quenching ale.

  So he lifted his voice, pressing Talon when he didn’t respond. “Grim.” Kendrew’s gaze flicked beyond the other man’s shoulder, searching the high, steep cliffs and rocky ground. “Have you seen him?”

  “Grim?” Talon blinked.

  “He was just here.” Kendrew’s brows lowered as Talon reined closer.

  “Aye, so he was…” Talon trailed off, frowning. A burly, bull-necked man with a square, strong-featured face, he looked as puzzled as Kendrew. “I cannae say I saw him ride away.”

  “Then find him. He’ll no’ be far.” Kendrew’s jaw hardened as Talon nodded and then spurred off, disappearing into the mist at a fast canter.

  Of all men to go missing, Grim was the most likely to vanish for reasons sure to foul Kendrew’s mood.

  The flat-footed craven thrived on vexing him.

  Next to Lady Norn, that was. She lived to annoy and outwit him, plaguing him at every twist and turn, her iron will as unbreakable as Nought granite. There were times a body could fancy she’d been sired by the massive boulders that littered Nought ground and not their long-dead parents, gods rest their souls.

  Kendrew eyed the nearest outcrop, the hoary stones cracked and pitted, seeming to glare at him accusingly. He didn’t see any mailed and wild-eyed spearmen hiding there. But he could well believe his sister sprang from such origins. A nefarious changling his parents found red-faced and bawling in a bed of pebbles.

  Their father had been too ugly to have spawned a maid of such fair beauty.

  Norn’s tongue was too sharp for her to have been born of their sainted mother’s womb. Which meant Marjory was an interloper.

  Whatever she was, Kendrew’s blood quickened to be on Nought ground again. Breathing deep of the cold, stone-scented air, his heart swelled, pride surging as he rode past the first clusters of broken stone.

  Thrusting boldly from the naked earth, the jumbled rocks were just a hint of the wonders to come. Deeper into the wilds of his holding, Rodan’s Stone would claim the eye, quickly followed by Drago’s Lair, the cairn said to belong to a mid-sized, three-legged dreagan the talespinners loved to claim still roamed Nought.

  Legend told that Drago walked to prove he could.

  Drago was the beast seen most often at Nought. To be sure, those glimpsing him were storytellers, graybeards, and men deep in their cups. But all swore that when Drago walked, he went about proudly, bumbling through the heather, crunching over stones.

  No one feared the storied beast.

  Mackintoshes, at least, knew that the three-legged dreagan’s prowling was a matter of dignity and not a search for his next meal.

  Drago had no need to scavenge, after all. Grim supplied him with all manner of supper leavings from Nought’s tables, regularly raiding the castle stores to fill whole creels with everything from barely-gnawed meat ribs to entire sides of roasted oxen if the lout could steal one from the kitchen fire-spit without Cook catching him. Grim also nabbed barrels of herring and other pickled fish when he thought no one was looking.

  No creature small or large went hungry at Nought.

  Grim cared for them all.

  It scarce mattered that deer or other woodland creatures, and not a dreagan, enjoyed Grim’s offerings.

  A romantic at heart, Grim appreciated the fancy of feeding a dreagan.

  At the moment, neither Grim nor a needy beastie could be seen. Talon had also disappeared, the clatter of his horse’s hooves faded. Nothing stirred on these outermost fringes of Nought except cold, blowing mist. Great, billowing curtains of damp grayness that - to Kendrew’s delight - was always darker and denser than the mist found anywhere else in the Glen of Many Legends.

  All was quiet.

  And Talon was no man to tread gently. Unless he chose to night-walk, as all Mackintoshes were like to do when the need or desire rose.

  Even so…

  Something was amiss.

  Kendrew frowned, narrowing his eyes to better peer through the mist. The silence bode ill. The rocks, heather, and crags returned his stare uncompromisingly, the rough terrain showing its most sullen face.

  Lifting a hand to his brow, he stared harder.

  He was better at being sullen than any ancient, lichen-covered boulders.

  His eyes were excellent.

  In the distance, he could just make out Rodan’s Stone, leaning precariously into the whirling gray. As usual, no one lurked there. For some reason, the air around the standing stone always held an unpleasant chill, leaving some to speculate that Rodan, the clan’s greatest hero, was perturbed by the tilt of his monolith.

  “Rodan must be about,” a deep voice claimed from the tight column of riders behind Kendrew. “The cold’s slicing my bones, it is.”

  Another man barked a laugh. “You’re chilled because Kendrew made us leave Castle Haven before you could pull a certain flashing-eyed serving wench onto your knee.”

  “She was already there, you arse,” the other man snarled. “A bonnie piece she was, too. Plump and warm, all woman and wanting me.”

  More laughter rose from the men.

  Kendrew refrained. They were almost level with Rodan’s Stone and – his head began to throb – he’d swear the monolith leaned more than the last time he’d been here. Indeed, he was certain.

  “I swear there’s frost on my danglers,” the first man complained again. “Rodan’s sour at us. Ho, Kendrew,” he raised his voice, calling from the end of the column. “Mayhap we should fix his-”

  “Nae.” Kendrew bit back a shudder.

  It was superstition that kept the clan from righting the stone.

  Twisting in his saddle, Kendrew looked down the line of riders to the man who’d spoken. “What gods willed, shouldn’t be undone.”

  But – he decided as swiftly - if Grim were up to mischief, no such law would apply to him.

  The oversized lout might be Kendrew’s most trusted friend and captain of the guard, but he enjoyed thrusting his nose in places not good for him. And he did so much too often. Grim was a natural-born meddler who should’ve been a woman, with all his interfering ways.

  A pesky feeling told Kendrew his friend was up to no good.

  Talon would’ve returned with him by now if that weren’t so.

  Only a moment before, Grim had been riding at Kendrew’s side. The three of them, Kendrew, Grim, and Talon, had led the column of men. They’d jested for the last mile or so, chuckling about the look on James Cameron’s face as they’d taken their leave of Castle Haven. Grim, especially, had laughed at Kendrew’s vow that his beard would grow past his ankles before he’d set foot there again.

  Then, as they’d neared their own land and the mist thickened around them, the air turning brittle with cold, they’d all sighed in pleasure.

  The only thing
a Highlander loved as much as his own bit of home glen was returning there after he’d been away. Even after such a brief excursion outside Nought bounds, Grim had edged his steed closer to Kendrew’s and reached over to thump him on the arm at their first sight of Nought’s soaring cliffs filling the sky before them.

  Now Grim was gone.

  Unease curled around Kendrew’s heart, gripping tight. For the most inexplicable reason, he was sure his friend’s absence had to do with Isobel.

  Even here, in the wilds of Nought’s dreagan vale, her spring violet scent haunted him. He could still feel the sweet warmth of her curves pressing against him in the secret passage. Her soft, tempting lips parting for his kiss, inviting him to ravish her; her heart beating so hard against his chest as he’d held her, her breasts…

  He tightened his grip on the reins, fury boiling inside him.

  He was a fool.

  Maddened by her charms, the spirit and boldness he admired so much more than was wise, he’d let matters with her reach a dangerous point. It was a place he should never have gone. With her wiles and allure, she’d maneuvered him onto treacherous ground that would open up and swallow him whole if he wasn’t careful.

  The sad truth was he didn’t want to be wary of her.

  He simply wanted her.

  “Damnation.” He scowled into the mist, glaring at the gray swirls sliding so innocently down the high, rocky cliffs to roll across the ground.

  A pity that since Midsummer Eve he was beginning to believe there was nothing at all innocent in his beloved Glen of Many Legends.

  Isobel had spelled him.

  And he hoped to the tops of Thor’s thundery ears that she hadn’t also worked her magic on Grim.

  It would be like the bastard to conspire with her.

  Grim was as susceptible to females as he was to needy animals.

  He wouldn’t grasp that Kendrew was so eager to put Isobel from his mind that his head would soon split. She filled his thoughts so greatly.

  “Ho, Kendrew! Grim is well.” Talon’s strong voice rose behind him, the words echoing off the cliffs.

  Kendrew reined in, whipping his horse around.

  Talon was almost upon him, spurring across the stony ground, his plaid flying in the wind. All men eyed him as he neared, a broad smile twitching his lips.

  Relief sluiced Kendrew. Even though Talon grinning was anything but a pretty sight.

  He pulled up swiftly, seemingly untroubled as he resumed his place beside Kendrew at the head of the line of riders. Looking pleased, he drew an arm across his brow, his eyes sparking with amusement.

  “Took me a while to find the loon, it did.” He tugged on his plaid, smoothing the folds.

  “Where is he?” Kendrew didn’t miss that Talon had returned alone.

  “Och, he’s back in the birchwood no’ far from Rodan’s Stone.” Talon jerked his head in the direction from whence he’d come. “He’s after a stray cattle beast wandering in the trees and wants to herd it back up into the grazing hills before the creature loses his way.”

  Kendrew frowned. “I didn’t see any cattle when we rode past the birchwood.”

  Talon snorted. “Grim would find a beast in need if he were buried in a muck heap.”

  “Then we’ll no’ be waiting for him.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  Kendrew looked ahead of them, eyeing the cold, dark mist as the other men snickered. He couldn’t blame them for their hoots and guffaws. Grim could take down a score of men in battle and not lose a wink of sleep. But if he found a dead newt, his heart broke.

  Nor did Kendrew doubt Talon. A shrewd fighter and warrior of renown, Talon wasn’t a man to spin tales. If he’d seen Grim fussing over a cattle beast, that would be what Grim was about and naught else.

  Still…

  The odd prickles at Kendrew’s nape were back, his hackles rising as the little group nudged their horses and rode on through the rocky vale. And with each crunch of his steed’s hooves on the cold, stony ground, he remained sharply aware of everything around them.

  Something was afoot in the Glen of Many Legends.

  It had nothing to do with Grim, Drago, or even Rodan and his tilting stone.

  And even less with Lady Isobel.

  His temples began to throb anew, images of her in the clutches of some faceless, unknown danger tightening his chest and making his blood boil. She wasn’t the woman for him, but he did appreciate her. She was a lady apart, different from any female he’d ever known.

  She scattered his wits so roundly that he was sure he’d soon be rid of them entirely.

  Even now, his body ached for her.

  His heart…

  He scowled, not finishing the thought.

  Truth was, he’d become quite the fool.

  But if any harm came to her, he’d find the perpetrators and make such foul work of them that only their dead eyes would remain to feed the ravens.

  Unfortunately, his bravura was dashed like a dousing of cold water when the great, frowning fortress that was Castle Nought loomed into view. Veiled in mist, only a few of the stronghold’s narrow windows showed flickers of light. But the gatehouse was ablaze. Scores of torches burned inside the entry arch and on the ramparts, the flames casting a garish, red-orange glow over the high walls and much of the rugged crag that formed Nought’s stony base.

  Hell couldn’t look more terrifying.

  But the vision at the top of the cliff stair did.

  Kendrew’s brows snapped together in a fierce scowl. “Odin’s balls.”

  Beside him, Talon gave a short laugh. “Norn looks most pleased with herself, what?”

  “Humph.” Kendrew couldn’t argue.

  He did know a greater agitation than if he were once again at the trial by combat, beating his sword against his shield and eagerly waiting to face the slashing bite of Cameron and MacDonald steel.

  His sister didn’t look pleased.

  She beamed.

  Her fair face and shining hair gave her the appearance of an angel. A triumphant angel. And even though he couldn’t see her eyes at this distance, he could feel the victory in their sparkling blue depths.

  There wasn’t anything amiss in the Glen of Many Legends.

  His ill ease came from Lady Norn.

  If he had any doubt, the little dog clutched in her arms proved him right. Hercules’s canine grin was even more jubilant than Marjory’s.

  The wee beastie loved to needle him.

  And just now Hercules looked more pleased than if he’d watered the inside of Kendrew’s shoe.

  Kendrew squared his shoulders, his pulse racing with annoyance. “Thon she-vixen can be damn glad she isn’t a man.” He could hardly speak for the growl rising in his throat. “If she were, I’d sever her head just to wipe the smugness of her face.”

  “I rather like her smile.” Talon sounded smitten.

  Kendrew shot an annoyed glance at him. “It’s not her face you’re staring at, you lecherous bugger.”

  “So it isn’t.” Talon had the nerve to agree.

  Ignoring him, Kendrew kneed his horse and galloped straight for Nought’s stables. He dismounted swiftly, tossing the reins to a startled stable lad, and then running for the cliff stair, taking them two at time until he reached the high gatehouse and his fair sister.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Norn?” He went toe to toe with her, fixing her with his fiercest glare.

  “The meaning of what?” She smiled sweetly, stroking Hercules’s tufted head.

  “You waiting for me at the top of the cliff stair.” Kendrew took a step closer, his hands fisting.

  “I was taking the air.” She tilted her chin, inhaling deeply to illustrate. “You know I love chill days full of cloud and mist.”

  “I know you-”

  Hercules showed his teeth, snarling.

  “Tell your pet squirrel to contain himself or I’ll feed him to Gronk for supper.” Kendrew scowled at the little dog.

  “
Gronk loves Hercules.” Marjory’s eyes twinkled when Kendrew’s dog trotted over to them and dropped onto his traitorous haunches at Marjory’s feet. Not even glancing at Kendrew, the big dog looked up at Hercules, his gaze full of adoration.

  “See?” Marjory sounded most pleased. “Unlike you, your dog knows who is good to him.”

  “I ken fine what’s good for me. And dinnae talk in riddles.” Kendrew took her elbow and ushered her through the gatehouse and into the hall, his fearsome stare daring Hercules to bite him.

  The dog didn’t.

  But Kendrew would’ve preferred the sting of Hercules’s sharp little teeth to the air of satisfaction swirling around his sister.

  “Now” – he steered her through the hall, marching her up the dais steps to the high table – “tell me why I’ve had prickles jabbing at my nape ever since riding onto Nought land? It’s your doing, I’m sure.”

  “O-o-oh, to wield such power…” She placed Hercules on the floor at last and then made a great show of settling herself in her chair.

  “You dinnae need such craft.” Ignoring his own chair, Kendrew planted his hands on the table edge and leaned toward her. “Your usual scheming does well enough.”

  “It does, yes.” She looked up at him, at last tossing down her gauntlet.

  Kendrew straightened, folding his arms. “What have you done, Norn? Tell me true, for I’ll no’ be asking you a second time.”

  “You won’t need to.” She held his gaze, wholly undaunted. “I’m very pleased to tell you.”

  “Then do.”

  But instead of speaking, she peered about the torchlit hall, her lovely brow creasing in mock concern. “I do not see Grim.” She returned her gaze to Kendrew, something in her tone making his innards quiver. “Did he not return with you?”

  “Nae, he didnae.” Kendrew’s face grew hot, the back of his neck catching fire. “He’s herding a stray cattle beast back to the grazing.”

  Marjory’s golden brows winged upward. “Is that what he told you?”