Siren of the Highlands: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Cherrythorn)

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Gillian’d love this room,” he said. “She loves tae read.”

  “I know. We have exchanged books on several occasions,” Ivy replied. “She had mentioned she insisted they build one at Westmarch Hall.”

  Fin nodded. “Aye. She got her wish. Gillian has her own library,” he said. “But tis nowhere near as grand as this.”

  A brief smile flickered across her lips. “I am sure it will be one day,” she noted. “It takes time to build up a proper collection.”

  “Well, knowin’ her the way I do, I’m sure tis only a matter of time before she builds a collection that rivals yours,” he asserted.

  “Oh, I am certain you are correct.”

  Fin stepped over to the window and stared through the thick panes of glass for a long moment before he turned back to her.

  “What is that out there?” he asked.

  “Let us go see,” she chimed.

  She led Fin out of the library and out through a side door. The sun was slipping toward the horizon, and the air was already growing cool. She led him down a path and out to the field he was looking at through the window. They walked between the trees and down a couple of rows together in silence as Fin admired the pink and white blossoms that hung full on the boughs.

  “This is our cherry orchard. Elix is well known for our cherry wines and jams,” Ivy told him, then paused for a moment. “It is the only thing Elix is known for.”

  “At least yer kent for somethin’,” Fin replied brightly. “Nae everybody can say that. Look at Westmarch. We’re nae kent for nothin’.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him as a grin quirked a corner of her mouth upward. “To be fair, Westmarch has not been in existence long enough to be known for something just yet,” she told him. “But with Gillian leading the charge, I am sure Westmarch will be a force that could rival even York before too much longer.”

  “God willin’.”

  As they resumed their walk, Ivy found herself stealing glances at Fin, and it made her heart churn every time she did. He was strong and handsome, and just being near him made her insides churn wildly. Her heart felt like it was going to burst straight out of her chest. She did not know how he had this effect on her, but she could not deny that he did.

  A bird called out from one of the branches as it took wing and soared off into the sky. Ivy tracked the bird as it flew off, disappearing into the trees in the distance. Battling the flutter in her stomach that was only outdone by the flutter in her heart, she looked over at Fin.

  “So why did you come all the way to Elix?” she asked. “Surely, you did not need to come all the way to Elix to take some air.”

  A small grin touched the corners of his mouth, and he was pointedly not looking at her. They walked on a little bit longer as she waited for him to answer. But then his grin faded and was replaced by a more sober expression. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and Ivy knew he had come to Elix for her brother and not necessarily for her. The realization sent a lance of disappointment through her.

  “I wanted tae see yer braither’s face when I told him the Duke is recoverin’,” he said. “Twas part of the reason anyway.”

  “So, you still believe that Castor is involved with the Duke’s assassination attempt?”

  “Nay. I daenae think he’s involved with it, I ken he’s behind the whole thing.”

  Ivy felt her face flush, and she immediately felt her anger bubbling up inside of her. She had to beat back her natural impulse to launch a fusillade of harsh words in defense of her brother, recalling the tense scene in his office just the day before, and she thought that Fin might have been right about it all.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She looked down at the ground as a cool wind swept through the orchard, sending the pink and white petals skittering across the ground, making her shiver. Fin slipped out of his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. Ivy pulled it tighter around her and gave him a grateful look.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Yer welcome.”

  They walked on in silence for a few minutes, and Ivy could feel the weight of Fin’s question hanging in the air between them. It pressed down on her as she battled her feelings. Ivy felt trapped between her loyalty to her family and her belief in doing the right thing.

  If Castor truly is behind the assassination attempts…

  Ivy pushed those thoughts away, still not quite ready to believe it. Her argument with Castor and all of the suspicion it had aroused still weighed on her mind. Despite that, though, she was not ready to make the leap to believing her brother was capable of cold-blooded murder. What could he possibly hope to gain out of killing the Duke of York and the Baron of Westmarch?

  “What makes you so certain of Castor’s involvement?” she asked.

  “B’cause I’m nae a fool,” he replied.

  She laughed softly despite the grim subject. “I never said you were a fool.”

  “Nay, but ye never said I wasnae either.”

  “Oh, I was not aware I was required to compliment your intelligence and cleverness, to make you feel better,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Well, now ye ken,” he beamed. “So be sure tae dae that.”

  They shared a laugh together and took a turn, still walking in the orchard but moving back toward the castle as the last bit of sun disappeared below the horizon. Wispy clouds, red and orange, streaked the sky above but were fast giving way to the darkness and gloom of the onrushing night.

  “Tae answer yer question though, his assassin told me as much,” Fin said with a shrug. “More or less, anyway.”

  “More or less hardly sounds definitive,” she snapped, her voice icy.

  “Aye. For now,” he replied. “But I’m still workin’ on gettin’ the evidence I need.”

  Conflict once again rose in Ivy’s mind, along with the instinctual need to protect her brother. Her family. The lessons her father ingrained in her when she was young still held sway, and she could not entirely cast them aside. At the core of her, she was a Welton, and Weltons always protected their family and their House.

  “So you are relying on words the assassin did not speak to convict my brother of these heinous crimes?” Ivy hissed. “That hardly seems fair.”

  Fin gave her a patient smile. “I ken how this difficult is for ye,” he said softly. “And I’m nae convictin’ nobody of anythin’ yet. I’m just tryin’ tae gather information.”

  “To convict and execute my brother.”

  “Tae convict and execute whoever was involved.” His voice grew firmer as his expression darkened, and Ivy could tell he was growing frustrated with her. “Like I told ye before, if Castor was nae involved, so be it. But tis me job tae find out one way or the other.”

  Ivy’s mood began to darken as quickly as the sky above as she considered Fin’s answer. She thought that “more or less” was not evidence, and Fin was still looking for proof of her brother’s guilt rather than the possibility of another killer. She could not deny, though, it raised her own questions once more, as well as her personal struggle. Loyalty was everything. Her family was everything… or, at least, all she had. What would happen to her if Castor really was guilty? Elix was her home, and if…

  Not wanting to spoil the evening though, she pushed away the darkness and tension building up inside of her. She cleared her throat and looked over at Fin, giving him a smile she hoped would warm up and look genuine. She wanted to enjoy the time she had with him, not argue about things that were well beyond her control.

  “You said speaking to my brother was not the only reason you came to Elix,” she said.

  He looked over at her and arched an eyebrow. “What’s that, then?”

  “Earlier,” she replied. “You said that talking to Castor wasn’t the only reason you came.”

  “Aye. I recall.”

  “So, what are your other reasons for coming?”

  There was a mischievous glint in his eye matched only by the slight curl of hi
s lips upward.

  “Why are ye so curious?” he grinned.

  “I am a naturally curious woman.”

  “Perhaps ye shouldnae be.”

  She gave him a small smile. “Well then, I just would not be living as my true and authentic self.”

  Fin chuckled. “Nay. I suppose not.”

  “So? What were your other reasons?”

  Fin looked down at the ground, and Ivy thought he looked self-conscious… something she thought impossible for a man as bold and brash as he. Somehow though, he did, and she found it adorable. She thought it made him a little more real as a person in the sense rather than being an immovable, unemotional stone - as he sometimes seemed to be - it showed him capable of feeling the same sorts of emotions as her. To Ivy, that made him all the more appealing.

  “I wanted tae see ye,” he finally said.

  Ivy’s heart turned somersaults in her chest as her stomach roiled wildly, a feeling like something alive inside of her. Feeling her cheeks flare with warmth, she looked away, unable to keep the smile from her lips.

  “To see me? Really?”

  “Aye,” he replied. “I enjoyed talkin’ tae ye back in York and thought we might speak again.”

  She gnawed on her bottom lip, trying to control her body and her wildly churning emotions, which seemed to be growing increasingly out of control. But she stood up straight and did her best to keep her mask cool and composed.

  “I enjoyed our conversations as well,” she replied, and then added with a grin, “at least, after that first couple of days.”

  “Aye. We got off tae a rough start.”

  Ivy’s smile widened. “We did. But I am glad we were able to overcome that.”

  “Me tae.”

  Fin’s smile faltered as they drew near the keep. He seemed to tense, and his expression darkened.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Dae ye ken the river ‘bout five miles tae the west?”

  “The Turnee. It is the border with York,” she said.

  He nodded. “Aye. That’s the one,” he confirmed. “There’s a village just past the river. Tis hidden by the forest.”

  “The ruins of Therline,” she said. “It was destroyed by the Scottish…”

  Realizing what she had just said and worried about how he might take it, Ivy bit off the rest of her sentence and felt her cheeks flush as she looked away. Fin laughed heartily and seemed to bear her no ill will, which made her feel somewhat better.

  “Aye. That’s the one,” he said. “And aye, me people treated it roughly durin’ one war or another.”

  “There was rough treatment on both sides of the war,” she replied. “But at any rate, what of Therline?”

  Fin cut a glance around them, his features growing tense. He looked this way and that as if searching for somebody who might be eavesdropping on their conversation. Only when he was satisfied nobody was listening in, did he speak.

  “I was hopin’ ye’d meet me out there tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

  Ivy felt her face grow warm at his suggestion they meet alone. It sounded positively scandalous. As shocked as she was by his brashness, there was something deep down inside of her that was intrigued as well. Ivy swallowed down a laugh of surprise at her own brashness and tried to keep her face from bursting into flames. Ivy took a moment to gather herself and gain control of her swirling emotions.

  “That is a highly inappropriate suggestion, Fin,” she said. “It is very improper.”

  “Aye. I know it is. And I apologize for bein’ so bold, but isnae what ye think,” he replied. “But I wouldnae ask ye if twas nae important.”

  She cocked her head as she regarded him. His request, though improper, was not what she had initially assumed it was. His tone was neither salacious nor flirtatious; it was serious and perhaps even grim. Ivy felt a lurch in her belly and suddenly felt a prickle on the back of her neck, as if somebody was watching her.

  But she saw nobody lurking in the shadows or hiding behind bushes. Apparently, Fin’s paranoia was bleeding over into her.

  “And what is so important that would lead you to make such a bold suggestion?” she asked.

  “I need tae speak tae ye,” Fin said, his voice grave. “But nae here.”

  The tone of his voice set her on edge and filled her with a sense of dread she could not understand, let alone explain. But it worried her.

  What could he have to speak to me about that he cannot say here?

  Ivy was about to tell him no, but her body betrayed her, and she found herself nodding. Something about the idea of being alone with Fin, away from the prying eyes of her brother and all his servant spies appealed to her.

  “Yes,” she said. “I will meet you at Therline.”

  Fin gave her a grateful smile, but there was an extra glimmer in his eye that nearly made her breath catch in her throat.

  “I thank ye.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Fin

  Fin slung his bag over the saddle of his horse and cinched it down tight. The day was overcast, and a chill wind swept across the bailey as he prepared to leave. All around him, Fin was met with suspicious and outright hostile glares from the workmen and the soldiers in the bailey. Apparently, the Scottish were either not a very common sight, or they were not welcome in Elix.

  I’d lay a bet on the latter.

  Fin was just about to swing up into the saddle, anxious to get to Therline. Ivy had agreed to leave an hour or two after him to hopefully stave off suspicion. She told him she worried that Castor was watching her, concerned that she had grown too close with him while they had been at York. Fin did not tell her he thought it a reasonable concern, given their different stations.

  Over the years, he had learned that the English were not like the Scots… they were obsessed with social rank and position. He supposed the Scottish nobility was probably the same way, but where he had come from, rank and social station did not matter when it came to matters of the heart. In the village he grew up in, people married for love and for no other reason.

  He began to wonder if that would change at Westmarch Hall if Col would keep up the traditions of their people or bow to the English conventions of marriage. But then, he knew that Gillian was not a traditional Englishwoman. She had risked everything, including being exiled from her own family to marry for love. She had sacrificed her social standing to marry Col, and Fin was suddenly sure he would maintain the traditions of their people.

  “Master Begbie, a moment?”

  He turned away from his horse to see Castor approaching him. The Baron stopped a couple of feet away from him, his personal guard loomed a few feet behind them, hands hovering near the hilt of their swords. They looked jumpy. Twitchy. They stared at him as if he were a snake, coiled and ready to strike. Chuckling to himself, he held his arms out wide and turned in a circle to show he was not carrying a blade.

  Castor rolled his eyes and turned to his guards, giving them a gesture to move away. Their expressions hardened, but they did as their master commanded and took a few more steps back, though they remained close enough to render aid to their Lord if necessary. It made Fin chuckle to himself.

  “What can I dae for ye, Baron Welton?”

  “I just wanted to wish you well,” he said.

  “Oh, well, I thank ye again for yer hospitality.”

  Castor shifted on his feet and clenched his jaw for a moment, and Fin knew there was something more he wanted to say. The Baron did not come out to simply bid him farewell. He very clearly had something on his mind.

  “Of course, of course,” Castor said. “But may I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “The assassin… has he said anything?”

  Fin eyed him closely. Though Castor was tightly controlled and gave nothing away in his expression, Fin could see something in his eyes -- he was worried about what the assassin might have said to him.

  Tis a fair enough worry for a guilty man.

  B
ut Fin knew he needed to be careful with what he told Castor. He was obviously a very dangerous man who handled his enemies roughly. Not that Fin feared him, but he did not particularly relish the idea of catching a blade in the back on some dark night.

  “Nay. Nae yet. Been quieter than a church mouse,” Fin replied. “But when I get back tae York, I plan on havin’ a long talk with the lad. I ken he’s got some interestin’ things tae say.”

  While he did not breathe an outward sigh of relief, it was close to it. Fin could see it in his eyes. But he managed to keep himself composed and gave Fin a small smile, and although he was tempted to tell Castor his theory about the assassin working for somebody else - for him - he bit his words back. He knew he needed to be discrete to not alert him.

  “Well, I do hope you are more successful in getting him to talk next time you speak to him,” he said. “It would be nice to know if he had any confederates.”

  Fin nodded, never taking his eyes off Castor. “Aye. And I plan on findin’ out.”

  Castor seemed to swallow hard but kept a pleasant smile on his face. “Well then, I wish you a pleasant and safe journey back to York,” he said. “And please, keep me apprised of any developments.”

  “Aye,” Fin said. “Ye’ll be the first tae ken.”

  * * * * *

  “Well, this place is not without its charm,” she said.

  Fin chuckled and looked around. There were a couple of homes in Therline that had been spared from the torch, and he used the time he’d been waiting to clean one of them up, just to give them a place to sit. It was the midway point between the two English lands, with a few hours ride one way or the other taking you to either York or Elix.

  “Aye. There’s somethin’ tae be said for spendin’ a little time in thae ruins of a village,” he said with a grin. “Tis nae thae grand halls ye’re used tae, but it’ll dae for now.”

  A wry smile touched Ivy’s lips. “I am not the sort of girl who always needs to sit in a grand hall,” she said. “Just so you know.”