Winning the Highlander's Heart

by Terry Spear

  For a second, she seemed disconcerted, but then her green eyes flashed with fire. “It better sound a lot like my plan.”

  He shook his head, smiling. “You are sure stubborn, lass. But the earl and my brothers and I agreed your plan has merit. What does Mai say?”

  “She was reluctant because she feels it her duty to protect me. However, she worried she might put us more at risk. What did the earl say?”

  “Simon is a bold man. He would not have it said that rogues attack nobles who pass through his shire. Therefore, he wishes for us to use part of your plan, and he has concocted one of his own.” Malcolm curled a strand of her hair around his fingers, his gaze focused on the lock, the silky red golden strand as enticing as the rest of her.

  “The plan?”

  He smiled at her. If she thought her hair distracted him, she would be right. “Even his son Simon wishes to take part and the earl’s wife as well. You see, ‘tis like a game, deadly though it is. Yet, the earl and his family are verra much agreeable to play along. I assured him we assume this is what Conan intends, not mentioning that Laird Fontenot has any part in this without evidence. But I told the earl the knight pretended not to know you, and yet from his talk he knew who you were. I changed the version a wee bit and said we think he may have brigands attack us so they can ransom you to the king.”

  She frowned. “But what if this does not happen?”

  Malcolm combed his hands through her hair, wishing he could touch the rest of her so intimately. “The earl said he has not planned such a rousting good play since the Crusades. If naught happens, he and his men will return home and have a good laugh about the Highlanders and their wild imaginations.”

  She sighed deeply. “’Tis good. I would not wish your friendship harmed. You say when he returns home though. Does he plan to accompany us?”

  “Nay. We are to attend the fair while the earl and three of his knights accompany him. They will take our wagon and all of our goods, pretending to be us. Two squires, the one his son, who are still smooth of face and about your and Mai’s height will ride as before, dressed in yer garments.”

  “They would be at risk—”

  “They are of slighter build, milady, as they are not yet grown men. I have met the two fine lads and they are beanpoles to be sure. But the earl assures me they shall soon be knighted, so bravely do they fight. They will have a better chance against armed brigands than ye—”

  She raised a brow.

  He smiled slowly, loving the lass’s tenacity. “Than Mai will.”

  “What about Conan? He will know those who ride with our wagon are not us.”

  “The earl’s men searched for Conan, the bard, last night. He now sits in the dungeon. If Simon finds nay brigands on the northerly road, he will set Conan free in a day or two.”

  “What reason did he give for arresting Conan?”

  “’Twill be a case of mistaken identity. Of course, Laird Simon will not give the man audience because he is away on business. In the interim, Conan must wait for the earl to return.”

  Anice let out her breath.

  “We will visit the fair for a couple of hours. Mai will accompany the earl’s wife and shop. Several ladies and guards will accompany them. If someone else knows about ye, they will think you are shopping with your maid and hosts. You and my brothers and I will tour the fair as men of the cloth.”

  “Monks?”

  “Aye, to keep you safe. I would not have your legs exposed in men’s hose, lass.” This time he tilted his chin up, waiting for her to disagree with him.

  She smiled. “Underneath the pious cloth we wear our weapons, milaird?”

  “Except for ye, of course. After you have shopped to your heart’s desire, we will eat at the fair and leave.”

  The courtiers began to stir.

  “We will have prayers in chapel early, break fast, then don our garments for the fair.”

  “I wish to thank you for using most of my plan, before too many of the servants are up and about.”

  He pulled her against his body, not waiting for her to say another word. She slid her fingers lovingly over his back and pressed closer, stirring his groin into action. His lips glided over hers with unrestrained need, a burning crush of her mouth that revealed a hunger not easily slaked. He struggled to quell his raging desire for her while he gripped her silken hair in bountiful bundles and leaned against her soft, willing body. He couldn’t believe how much her gentle touch and tentative kisses could light a rampant fire deep inside him. If Henry saw them now, he’d have both their heads. But Malcolm didn’t want to stop, and neither did she seem to, which stoked his burning need even more.

  Anice fought appearing too brazen and scaring her champion off, but she ran her hands over his muscled back, wishing she could feel his bare skin and press her body wantonly against his erection, hard and willing. She didn’t want to quell her own lustful desires, instead wishing to have his hands lifting the hem of her gown, and his fingers rising up the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, leaving the skin sizzling in their wake, rising higher to the juncture of her legs, now aching with gusto.

  She clung to him as his tongue delved into her mouth and his fingers drew down to her breasts. She savored the experience, the feel of his large hands massaging her breasts, the nubs tight, stretching out to him and begging for relief. Shivers raced down her heated skin as she barely breathed. He growled low and nuzzled her neck with his mouth, and she moaned in blissful anticipation. The notion she was shameless briefly crossed her mind. How could she allow herself to be touched so intimately by a man not her husband?

  With a ragged groan, he flicked his thumbs over her taut nipples, abruptly separated from her, kissed her cheek like a brother would, and stepped away. Her heart felt wrenched in two.

  Nearly married four times and not once had she ever felt like this toward any man. She licked her lips, swollen and well-loved, but the rest of her ached for more.

  Malcolm’s eyes were black as midnight, and a scowl marred his now hardened face. “I beg forgiveness, milady,” he growled, his voice husky and harsh.

  “There is nothing to—”

  “Aye, there is,” Malcolm interrupted. He appeared contrite, and she felt queasy with his abrupt rejection. “Ye are a fine, sweet lass and are meant to have a husband who will…” He blew out his breath. “Pray forgive me for overstepping my bounds. We break our fast, then shall be on our way.” With a deep courtly bow, he left her staring after him, wondering how he could turn from a sizzling hot man of passion into an ice cold warrior.

  She pursed her lips as she watched the brawny Scotsman rush away from her. Coward. Or was it that he still preferred an English lady?

  Her heart sank and she clenched her teeth at the thought, then twirled around to return to her room and saw Dougald watching her. Her heart leapt in her throat, while his lips curved generously upward.

  “Milady.” He bowed low.

  How much had he witnessed? The blackguard.

  Chapter Eight

  Shortly after eating, the courtiers were bristling with excitement when the earl and his knights rode forth with Lady Anice’s wagon and the party’s goods. Then Lady Maud, Mai, several women of court, their maids, and men to watch over their purchases, headed into the main market square.

  Anice’s stomach tightened while she ensured the hood of her robe covered her head sufficiently one last time. When she met Malcolm and his brothers in the bailey, they all looked her over.

  “Are you satisfied?” she asked, when all Angus and Dougald did was smile.

  “Aye,” Malcolm said, his voice dark and his face devoid of emotions. He’d barely spoken a word to her while they had supped, and she hated the distance he’d put between them. She had made a terrible mistake in trusting him, in acting so common. She wished she could take every action back, as cold as he acted toward her now.

  “We shall enjoy the fair, while these young men watch our horses.” Malcolm motioned to four squ
ires. “They’re well armed in the event we have trouble. Your bow and quiver are hidden under yonder blanket behind your saddle.”

  She nodded, her face feeling hot and her skin crawling with anxiety. Had Dougald told Angus what he had seen Malcolm and she doing outside her guest chambers? They must have had a good laugh betwixt them. Stiffening her back, she vowed never to be led astray again.

  They exited the castle grounds and strode toward the market square, while the young men led their horses from behind.

  Delighted to see all the offerings, Anice soon forgot her distress over Malcolm’s cold treatment and hurried from one booth to the next. Not only were wool products piled on tables for examination, but produce, chicknows, even gems were offered for sale. But an emerald green silk called to her from a table beneath a tent. She instantly gravitated toward it.

  Malcolm blocked her path and whispered, “Anice, where are you headed?”

  She paused, realizing at once that a monk would not have reason to inspect the silk cloth. She whipped around, ignoring him, and headed straight for one of the squires. “Come and help me with the purchase of some silk.”

  “Aye.” He handed her horse’s reins to his companion, then walked with Anice to the silk booth.

  She explained the quantity of fabric she required, slipped some money to him, then told him to give the cloth to her lady-in-waiting when he returned to the castle. The young man did as she bid, then tucked the bound fabric under his arm.

  Anice stared at the silks from a distance, then motioned to the squire again. “Another. The paler green one beneath that royal blue. Do you see it?”

  “Aye, do you wish it, too?”

  She nodded. “Same amount of fabric.” Again, she handed him the coin.

  After the squire did as he was told, he returned to her. “Any other that you wish, my—”

  “Nay ‘tis enough for now.” She smiled, then turned and sauntered past a booth of wool.

  Malcolm joined her and shook his head at her.

  She motioned to the crowded streets. “There are so many about, nay one would have noticed.”

  “Save the merchant and a half dozen others who were loitering nearby.”

  “’Tis my wedding gown.”

  Malcolm stifled a laugh.

  Exactly what did he think so amusing about the colors of silk she’d selected?

  “Sorry, milady, it sounded funny coming from a monk.”

  She ground her teeth, still peeved at him for not wanting the likes of her for a wife. “Ah, I thought perhaps you did not like the colors—”

  “Stop!” the earl’s steward shouted, his face red as he dashed across the square. “Stop that thief!”

  The boy, wearing rags and dirty brown hair to match his dirty brown skin, ran straight into Anice when he scurried through the crowds. She nearly fell, but quickly tripped the lad instead. As soon as he sprawled out on the ground, one of the squires apprehended him, yanking him from the street while Malcolm grabbed Anice’s arm to steady her.

  The nobleman tore his purse from the youth’s grasp. To the squire he said, “Take him to the dungeon. His Lord Earl can deal with the likes of him.”

  Anice hurried to speak with Baron Crichton in private. “Sir, you have your purse back. If the lad travels with me to Brecken Castle, he will be nay more trouble to ye. But if he wishes it not, he is your laird’s problem.”

  “Milady, why would you want such a blackguard as the lad? Would he not be more trouble than you already have?” the baron said, his voice hushed.

  “A young boy in our service would make it look less likely that I am Lady Anice traveling with Highland warriors.”

  The baron glared at the boy. “If he gives you any trouble, I will have him locked up.”

  “’Tis a fair bargain. If he leaves with me, he will nay longer be a problem in your shire.”

  She returned to Malcolm and offered her proposal.

  “You cannot be serious.”

  She folded her arms intent on having her way.

  “You are serious.”

  “They will not expect us to travel with a child.”

  Malcolm frowned at her. “Who will rob us blind while will sleep.”

  “I will leave it up to ye, Malcolm. Speak to him. Think you he cannot be trusted, we will leave him here for the Laird Earl to deal with.”

  He took a heavy breath, then walked over to speak with the lad. “Brother John has acted on your behalf to have you released to us, if you will join us on our journey. If not, you will be turned over to the Laird Earl who will have one of your hands cut off for the act of thievery.”

  The boy stood on his tippy toes, cupped his mouth, and whispered to Malcolm.

  Malcolm looked at Anice. He faced the boy again, but this time spoke under his breath. The lad looked at Anice, his bright blue eyes wide. “Aye I will serve ye.”

  “You will be Brother Angus’s charge.”

  Malcolm joined Anice but before she questioned him as to what the boy had said, she asked, “What is his name?”

  “Scoundrel.”

  She tilted her head down. “He has to have a name.”

  “And you wish to know it?”

  Why wouldn’t she wish to know the lad’s name? Would seem odd to call him boy. “Aye, Malcolm, I do.”

  He shook his head and returned to the lad. “Brother John wishes to know your name.”

  The boy, who couldn’t have been any older than ten, straightened his back. “Kemp.”

  “Have you family?”

  “Nay, they have all died. I live on the streets now. Nay one will hire me as they say I am too small to be of much use. But I will show ye I am strong.”

  “Aye.” Malcolm nodded at Angus who came to stand by the boy.

  Angus glared at the lad. “Nay doing anything wrong, Kemp. You will be under my watchful eye.”

  Malcolm walked back to Anice and the two continued to stroll through the market.

  “What did he say to you in private?” Anice asked Malcolm.

  “He said that the lady was nay more a monk than he was king.”

  Anice nearly laughed, but quickly stifled the urge. “’Tis good we are taking the lad with us. If he had been locked in the dungeon with Conan, and the youngster spoke of what he ken, Conan would have told Fontenot when he is released.”

  “If he steals one of our horses in the middle of the night, then nay, I will not think it was a good idea. What will you do with him when you get him to Brecken, if you manage?”

  “His name means warrior. I shall make him a groom in my stables, and he can learn to fight like you when he is no’ tending my horses.”

  “You are too kindhearted to take the scoundrel in.”

  “Nay, he will suit our purpose.”

  The smile on Malcolm’s face indicated he thought she was softhearted despite her words. But the boy would have to work hard in her service, like everyone else did to earn his or her keep. Yet, it was a chance at a better life than he had in the village with no way to earn a meal.

  Malcolm’s face lit up when he spied a booth filled with knives, swords and shields, many used, a few new.

  “You have nay reason to look over weapons,” Anice reminded him under her breath. She couldn’t help but be amused that the weapons drew him in just like the fabrics had her.

  “Aye.” He motioned to one of the squires. “Check on that dagger, yonder. See if it has a good weight and ask the price.”

  The squire soon returned. “’Tis a fine weapon, milord. But he is asking too much.”

  “Offer him half the price. Tell him you are on the way to Nottingham where an armorer makes the best weapons at half the price he’s asking.”

  The squire spoke to the merchant who eyed Malcolm with suspicion. He responded, then the squire returned to Malcolm. “Milord, he wants to know why you wish a dagger.”

  Malcolm stalked into the booth, then lifted the blade and examined it. “You best not want the answer to your question. D
o you wish to sell for the aforementioned price or not?”

  “I would not make a farthing on the sale. So nay.”

  “As you wish.” Malcolm laid the dagger down, then stalked out of the booth. He walked at a quickened pace toward a booth where roasted chicknows were being sold while Anice hurried to catch up. “Time to eat, milady, then we must be on our way.”

  “Could you not have bargained a wee bit higher, Malcolm?”

  “Nay, he will come around. You never want to appear too anxious.”

  They paid for their fowl and shared with his brothers, the squires and the lad, Kemp.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Anice noticed the weapon’s merchant watching them. “He does appear to be growing more anxious.”

  “Did you want me to snatch it for ye?” Kemp asked.

  “Nay,” both Anice and Malcolm said.

  The lad was determined to prove his worth, but not in any way that Anice would wish him to. She had to admire him for wanting to please her, though. Despite Malcolm’s misgivings in taking the boy with them, she was certain Kemp would be as much of a help to them as they would be to him.

  After eating their meal, the party headed away from the market square to a more deserted side street. One of the squires assisted Anice onto her horse while the MacNeill brothers mounted their own. Angus pulled Kemp into the saddle behind him.

  Before they left, the sound of hurried boots clomping on the cobblestone path caught their attention. Two of the squires drew their swords. A red, puffy-faced weapon’s merchant hastened toward them with the dagger clutched tightly in his fist. “I know not who ye are, milord,” he addressed Malcolm, “but if ye have to pose as ye are, and ye have the Lord Earl’s squires attending ye, ye must be on an important errand. I would lay awake in bed this eve, praying I had not done ye an injustice by refusing to drop the price on the dagger.”

  “To half the price you first offered, my good man?” Malcolm asked.

  The merchant wavered as his brow furrowed, evident having to part with the weapon at such a bargain, pained him. “Aye.”

  “I will tell everyone I chanced to meet what an honorable armorer you are.”