by Starla Kaye
Douglas drew up to his full height and pinned him with a look of disgust. “Aye, lass, he can be that at times.”
Now Brodie felt great remorse for being so abrupt, so heartless. She just made him… Well, he wasn’t sure what, but she definitely knocked him off-kilter. “’Tis sorry for that, I am,” he mumbled.
The first of his other men rode up and he shifted in front of her, trying to block her from their view, which he knew was ridiculous. He looked at them and ordered brusquely, “We need to bury the lass’s da.”
He heard her suck in a breath and, again, felt bad about speaking so harshly. He glanced toward a small grassy area between several towering birches and a patch of heather. It seemed a fitting place for burial. “Lay the mon to rest there.”
Annabel shivered as she stood rigidly in front of the dirt and stone mounded grave The Devil’s men had finished only moments ago. She wasn’t cold on the outside, more cold on the inside. Cold and lost. But not alone, at least not right now. She knew that his large group of men was nearby, silent and watching as she paid her final respects to her father. “I’ll miss you, da,” she said in a pain-filled whisper.
She bent down to lay the bouquet of heather she’d picked next to the rough cross Sir Douglas had made. Such a big man, he was. A bit gruff when speaking with the other men, but she sensed the gruffness covered a good heart and a fierce loyalty to The Devil and to their men. She gently touched the foot-tall, wooden cross and felt their powerfully built, far-too-handsome leader standing a few feet away. He’d not said another word to her after his awkward apology. She doubted he’d apologized very many other times in his life. The fact that he’d done so to her touched her heart.
“Good-bye, da.” She stood, dashed away the tears on her cheeks, and hoped she could find the strength within her to face life alone now. It was so difficult to turn around and look at the tinker’s wagon in which she’d spent so much time traveling all over the lands with her parents.
“Tavis will ride with ye,” The Devil said, nodding toward a young Scot near her age standing at the front of the wagon. Tavis’s face was almost as red as his hair.
“Ride with me?” She blinked in confusion.
“We canna leave ye out here all alone. Ye will go with us to Urquhart for now.” That said he strode toward his big black stallion.
She ran after him, stopping between the man who towered over her by at least a foot and his horse. “Why do you insist on telling me what to do, Devil? You have no say at all in where I go or when I travel.” Then she remembered the kindness he’d done for her when he didn’t need to do anything. “I do thank you for seeing to my da.”
“Devil?” He frowned down at her, his moss green eyes appearing annoyed.
Douglas said, “Ye’ve no’ told her yer name, Brodie. All the lass knows is yer ‘The Great Scottish Devil.’”
Clearly the bold Scot hadn’t thought about that. “Brodie. Brodie Durward, laird of Urquhart.”
Out of courtesy only, she said, “Annabel Henderson.”
“Now that the introductions have been made, ‘tis time we be on our way.” He began to move around her. “Tavis can help ye onto the wagon seat.”
Annabel once more moved between Brodie and his horse. “You can be on your way, but I am not leaving for another day or so.”
His massive chest swelled and he gave her a stony, flinty look. “We have been away long enough, lass. My men are anxious to get home. As am I.”
She shook her head. “Then go. Take your Tavis with you.” Now she stepped by him and pursed her lips in exasperation as she heard a number of low chuckles from his men.
He must have heard them, too, for he growled and all laughter stopped. He was on her heels in an instant. “I will no’ leave ye here alone. ‘Tis dangerous. Ye were jist lucky ‘twas my men and I who came upon ye.”
“I’ve a dirk and…and a sword—smaller than yours—and I—”
“Useless weapons against a mon, or men, determined to have their way with ye. Nay, ye will come along with us.” He clenched his jaw and looked ready to pick her up and toss her over his shoulder if necessary.
Although she imagined most people would be intimidated by him, she was not. What he said might be true, but she wasn’t ready to leave her father’s side just yet. And when she did leave here, she would be traveling on with their normal route. Their—her—wagon with all its tinker’s wares would be expected at the villages they visited this time of year.
“Urquhart is by Loch Ness, isn’t it? That is not the direction I am headed.”
If the man puffed up any more in his frustration, she feared he’d explode. “Ye. Are. Coming. With. Us.”
She stood toe-to-toe with him and inhaled his scent, which sent shivers of awareness through her, and ignored all but her irritation. “No. I. Am. Not.”
It surprised her how silent so many men could be, but they appeared to be avidly listening to this strained conversation. She sensed their amazement that she dared to stand up to their determined leader. And from the corner of her eye, she noted Tavis practically gaping in shock. But she had to take a stand, had to learn to deal with problems she would face from here on out. Brodie Durward was merely the first one of many, she imagined.
Douglas walked over to them, oddly studying them both. “The day is passing quickly, my lord. Mayhap we could camp here tonight.” He looked calmly at Brodie. “Mayhap ye can talk this matter out while the men rest. We’ve been traveling hard now fer days.”
At first she didn’t think Brodie would give in, she didn’t think he backed easily down from anything. But he gave a curt nod. “We leave on the morrow. Make camp.”
“I—” She started to protest, again, that she wouldn’t be going with them, but Brodie turned and walked away to give the order to his men.
“He’s a good mon, lass. Suffers much pain at the moment, though ‘tis on the inside.” He watched the slightly younger man striding away. “He’s no’ a patient mon, but he’d give his life fer any of his men and they all know it.”
“Pain? On the inside?” Annabel asked, irritated with Brodie but unusually drawn to him. She didn’t like the idea of him suffering. She didn’t like for anyone to suffer. But the thought of him doing so worried her and pulled on her heartstrings.
Douglas furrowed his brow in thought, but finally made a decision. “Our laird lost his memories fighting in the Crusades. Came back to us hurt bad, though his physical wounds have healed. But he doesna remember us.” His voice became even sadder, quieter. “No’ even me and I grew up with Brodie, his brother and his sister.”
“It must be very hard on him. His family as well.” She couldn’t imagine dealing with such an awful thing. And now she’d added to his burdens, even if he shouldn’t be worried about her.
“’Tis harder than any of us can understand, I fear. Fergus, his older brother, died in the battles in Tunis. As did their father.” He glanced back toward the mountains they’d crossed over. “We ride back now from Middleham, from going to see his sister Maggie. The lass is heartbroken that she couldna help him. He doesna remember her, either.”
Annabel’s thoughts turned to her supply of medicinals. Did she have anything that might help him? She didn’t speak, just wandered toward the wagon.
* * *
The men were breaking camp, preparing to leave for Urquhart. Brodie returned from doing his private business in the small stand of trees. In truth, he wasn’t anxious to go home. Home. He still had no real recollections of the vast castle and its grounds, nor of the people there. He knew his continued loss of memory concerned them, especially Douglas. Yet he worried the memories were gone forever. He wasn’t sure how to begin a completely new life.
His glance moved to the tinker’s wagon. Annabel Henderson would be beginning a new life, too. He didn’t think he was a man who had much of a soft side, but the tiny lass had gotten to him. She’d admitted to being all by herself in the world now. He felt her pain, her grief, her determina
tion to survive. And he respected that grim resolve, although he was more than frustrated with her stubbornness. They’d talked late into the night about her intending to continue with her family’s tinker trade. Well, she’d talked about it. He’d listened and tried to give her the voice of reason, tried to make her understand the dangers of being a woman and traveling alone. She’d finally acknowledged he was right about that.
So why wasn’t she getting ready to leave? He’d seen her wander off to take care of her own personal matters, but she should be back by now. She should be helping to hitch up her horses. Unless she’d changed her mind about going with them this morn. But had she actually told him she would? Aye, she had. He was certain she had. Well, almost certain.
Irritated, he strode off in the direction he’d seen her go. She was coming with them! There was no question about it in his mind. Behind him he heard the sounds of men packing up, saddles being put on horses, men talking and laughing. They were eager to get on their way. Now they were delayed even longer because of this contrary lass. He had a good mind to warm her bottom over all this nonsense.
Annabel squirmed for all she was worth. “Let me up! Right now! You have no right to do this!”
Brodie’s large hand went right on swatting hard against her bottom. Even through the layer of her braies she felt the burning sting getting worse and worse.
“Nay! Ye’ve earned this spanking.” He tucked her closer to his firm stomach where he sat on a boulder with her draped over his lap. His hand rose and fell faster, harder. “Ye’re being foolish and I willna put up with it any longer.”
She wriggled and then hissed at yet another solid Swat! She’d been picking heather and some wildflowers when he’d come upon her. He’d ordered her back to camp. Of course, she’d refused. His patience had disappeared in that instant. He’d spotted a nearby boulder large enough to sit on and dragged her with him to it. He’d given her a chance to change her mind and do as he’d told her. When she’d stubbornly shaken her head and then made the mistake of calling him some colorful names for being so pigheaded about this, he’d announced he was going to spank the very devil out of her. Which he currently was doing.
“I’m perfectly capable of…” Her protest faded away as he sent another rain of bottom-blazing smacks down. The man’s hand was hard as iron.
She arched backward from the pain, kicked her legs. Finally she cried out and hated that probably every man in camp had heard her. How would she ever face them again? “I’ll never forgive you for this! Ooooohhh. Oooowwww!”
“Lie still! Havena ye ever been spanked ‘ere?”
“Of course I have,” she yelped. Her father’s strap was in one of the boxes in the wagon’s bed. It hadn’t been used often in the last year or so, but she was very familiar with its sting. Even her mother had taken her over her knee from time to time over the years to give her a hand spanking.
“Then ye should know enough to take what ye’ve earned.” The smacks seemed to go on and on. It hurt, a lot!
She hit his leg with her fist. “I did not earn this!”
“Aye, ye did. This foolish insistence aboot no’ going with us. Thinking ye can just travel these lands all on yer own. Worrying me.” He smacked her extra hard at that admission. “I’ll no’ have it!”
Suddenly even through her misery she remembered all that he was dealing with, the loss of his memory, his family. She’d lost the last of her family, too. But at least she could get comfort from her memories of them. He didn’t have that. And now he worried about her. As irritated with him as she was about this spanking, she hurt for him. Would it really be such a problem to go with them for now? Mayhap she could find someone in his village to join her in her travels.
“All right,” she said on another hiss and craned her head back to look at him. “I’ll go with you.”
His hand froze in mid-air. “Ye’re no’ lying to me, are ye?” He looked doubtful.
“Nay. I’ll go with you. For now.”
He released her and she immediately wriggled off his lap. Her hands flew back to cover her throbbing bottom. The stubborn, bossy man watched her with no hint of apology. “It’s going to be hard to sit today,” she grumbled. But it was something else she was experienced with: having to sit on the wagon seat while being jostled about on a tender bottom from a sound spanking.
“Ye’ll survive.” He stood, tugged his chainmail hauberk down, and nudged her back to camp.
She continued rubbing her bottom and glanced back at him. “I’m unhappy about this, you know. About being turned over your knee and spanked like a child. I’m not a child.”
To her surprise, he gave her a hint of a smile and it nearly took her breath away. “Nay, lass, ye’re far from a child.”
The huskiness in his tone made her feel warmth in another place besides her burned bottom. Tingles as well. Feelings she’d begun having this last year when she was near a handsome man. They were something new to her, something she didn’t know how to deal with. But she was pretty sure that she didn’t want to have such feelings for this man.
She walked even faster to put distance between them. Maybe she’d made a bad decision to go with the handsome, gruff Scot and his men.
“Ye’ve a verra nice ass.” He caught up with her and gave her bottom a light swat just before they came upon the camp.
She glowered at him. “Stop that!”
“I’ve a feeling, Anna lass, this willna be the only time I’ll take ye over my knee.”
He escorted her to the wagon where Tavis had already hitched up the pair of horses. Then he lifted her up and planted her on the unforgiving wooden seat.
She gasped at the contact to her tender bottom and shifted awkwardly. It annoyed her that far too many men seemed to be looking in their direction. And far too many of them appeared to be trying to hide smiles.
* * *
“He’s not going to like this bit of news,” said one of the pair of mercenaries hidden in the trees at the top of the hill. “That Henderson died. That the girl’s still alive and now without anyone to hide her.”
“We could have gotten rid of her,” the other man said in disgust. “It was just bad luck that The Devil and his men came across her.”
“I guess we’d better get a message to him. Find out what he wants us to do now.” The taller man walked back to his horse and mounted, shaking his head in annoyance.
The balding man gave a final scowl at the large party heading out into the valley. “He isn’t paying us enough to take on The Devil.”
Chapter Two
By the third day when she finally caught sight of Loch Ness, Annabel considered defying the irritable Scottish laird and heading her wagon in the dead opposite direction. With each day they’d gotten closer to his home, his disposition had gotten worse. How did anyone put up with the man? No wonder he’d earned the name “The Great Scottish Devil”! She knew it had been earned on the battlefields, but she thought he could have easily won the name without going anywhere near a battle.
She watched him tenaciously leading the group of fifty plus men and her toward the sprawling Urquhart Castle in the distance. They’d been traveling since before dawn and now the sun was high in the sky. She was hot, tired, and more than ready to stop for a short while. His men were starting to sag in their saddles. Yet the stubborn man didn’t seem to notice anyone’s discomfort. Well, enough was enough.
To the surprise of the dozen men following behind her, Annabel pulled on the reins to slow her team of weary horses. She turned the wagon toward the loch. Her pair of horses immediately drew in the scent of water and headed toward it. If Tavis hadn’t jerked awake from where he sat next to her and helped to pull on the reins, the team might have dragged them and the wagon right into the loch.
“What are ye doing, lass?” Sir Douglas called out in confusion. He had apparently heard the wagon move out of position in the line and trotted back in its direction. A frown creased his forehead.
The men following her re
ined in as well.
As Annabel eased from the high seat, she noted their relieved expressions and gave them a gentle smile. “My team is tired and thirsty. I’m tired and thirsty. I decided it was time for a rest.”
“Our laird isna going to like this,” Tavis stated and looked warily at the line of riders that were now slowly stopping.
“What does he like?” she said peevishly and then sighed. She went around to unhitch her team of horses and he hurried to help her. “He is your laird, not mine. I’ve had enough of his attitude for the morning. I’m stopping.”
The sound of men dismounting and moaning as they stretched tired muscles drifted over her. They were grateful for the excuse to put feet to ground for a few minutes, even if they couldn’t readily admit it. And she knew, as did they, that they wouldn’t face recriminations from their laird. Their current duty was to watch after her. She’d stopped, which meant they had to as well.
One of her horses grew impatient with her fumbling to free him and shifted his great weight forward. He managed to knock her down to the grass at his hooves. She gave a startled gasp.
The nervous team danced forward until she lay between them, looking up in horror, not even breathing.
Within the space of the next second, every one of the men “guarding” her, plus Tavis and Douglas, had surrounded the horses to take control of them and the wagon. Still, the beast shifted uneasily at the sudden mass of men.
As she tried to scramble away, her tunic’s sleeve caught on a stick half hidden in the grass and half under one of the horse’s hooves, trapping her. She struggled to get free. Her movement made the horse even more anxious. One of his heavy legs raised, all set to come down on her chest. Her eyes widened in dismay and she tugged harder on her sleeve.
A couple of the men had noticed her predicament and started toward her. And then they were shoved aside as she heard a familiar, annoyed growl. Before she could do more than glance up, Brodie reached down and jerked her to safety.
