Every Highland Sin: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Is there somethin’ I can help ye with?”

  It took a moment for Luke to realize the woman was looking at him square in the eyes and speaking to him. He gave himself a small shake and cleared his throat.

  “Sorry?” he asked.

  “I asked if there was somethin’ I could help ye with,” she snapped. “Ye’ve been eyeballin’ me since ye sat down.”

  “I have not.”

  She rolled her eyes, a small grin flickering across her full, red lips. “Aye. Ye have.”

  “Me apologies then. I dinnae mean tae stare. I was just thinkin’ to meself.”

  “Thinkin’ about me then?” she purred.

  “No, of course nae.”

  “Why not? Daenae ye find me attractive?”

  “Well… no,” he stammered. She stared at him, one eyebrow raising as her lips curled upward in a smile. “I mean… yes. Of course. But that’s not what…”

  She’s got me stammerin’ like a bleedin’ idiot. Get ahold of yerself already.

  “I was nae lookin’ at ye, all right?” he finally managed. “I was just thinkin’. And nae about ye.”

  “Ye’ve quite thae effect on thae lads,” a deep, rumbling voice sounded.

  “Ye’ve no idea,” she replied, her voice low and smoky.

  For the first time, Luke noticed the large, burly man sitting at the table with her. He was older than her, but not old enough to be her father. And yet, there were some resemblances between them, so Luke thought they could be kin.

  As for the man, he was built like a tree - tall, wide, and stout. He wore doeskin breeches, boots, and a dark tunic belted at the waist. The man’s hair was dark, his eyes even darker, and his skin was tawny. A large, bushy beard covered most of his face, and he seemed to radiate menace from every pore. Luke was good in a fight and skilled with a blade, but he knew even he’d think twice about tangling with the man before him.

  The walking tree turned his head to Luke. “Now why daenae ye be a good lad and mind yer own bleedin’ business?”

  Luke frowned and felt the blood in his veins begin to boil, feeling like he was being called out. He cut a glance around the common room of the tavern and saw people turning their way, interest upon their faces. He felt his back stiffen, and as more eyes fell upon him, he felt the pressure to answer the large man’s challenge growing. Getting heavier and pressing down on him.

  Of course, people want tae see some bloodshed—bleedin’ vultures.

  Luke looked him in the eye and held his gaze firmly. “I was mindin’ me own bleedin’ business ‘til she said somethin’ tae me, friend.”

  “I’m nae yer friend, lad,” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

  “Fine. I daenae care,” Luke snapped. “I’m just tryin’ tae enjoy a drink and this fine hearth.”

  “What’s your name?” the woman asked.

  “Luke Addair,” he replied. “And yers?”

  “Alice,” she said. “Alice Garnier.”

  The burly man shot her a look but turned his gaze back to Luke again.

  “Me name’s none of yer bleedin’ business,” he grumbled.

  Luke shrugged. Frankly, he didn’t care what the man’s name was. He wasn’t what had captured Luke’s attention. That was Alice Garnier. He found that he was growing more curious about her.

  “Tis unusual for a woman tae captain a ship,” Luke said.

  She gave him a smile, which left him feeling somewhat unsettled. For some reason, this woman had a visceral impact on him. She put a flutter through his heart and stomach he couldn’t understand.

  “Mebbe it shouldnae be,” she replied.

  Luke shrugged and gave her a small smile. “Mebbe not.”

  “I’d heard ye’ve got a French crew,” he said. “Seems unusual.”

  “Lots of things seem tae be unusual tae ye,” she replied. “But tae answer yer question, good men tae crew a ship can be found anywhere… even in France. And tae enlighten ye further, I’ve got Scots and even an Irishman among me crew.”

  Luke nodded, feeling the weight of her companion’s eyes on her. He didn’t think the big man was part of her crew, though. He couldn’t put his finger on why exactly, but Luke didn’t think he had the look of a sailor about him. Unlike her. She seemed made of ocean water and sea salt. She had the look of a woman who could be as soft and gentle as the sea on a calm, clear day, and at other times, turn as violent and brutal as an ocean storm. Luke found her more than a little intriguing.

  “So what brings ye tae Sowkirk then?”

  She shrugged languidly. “Just doin’ some business.”

  “We daenae get many merchants from France ‘round here.”

  “Then thae market should be fresh and unspoiled for me goods, eh?”

  He grinned at that. “Aye. I suppose so,” he said. “And what kind of goods are ye bringin’ tae market then?”

  “Ye sure dae have a lot of questions, daenae ye?” the man grumbled.

  “Me ma always said havin’ a curious mind was a good thing,” Luke shot back.

  “Tis a good way tae get yer gut opened up, and yer innards spilled out on thae floor here.”

  The big man had his hand on the hilt of a dagger on his belt, his eyes narrowed, and jaw set. He looked at Luke with pure malice in his eyes. Luke was getting tired of the man and his not-so-veiled threats. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, his gaze fixed firmly to the big man’s. The air in the tavern suddenly crackled with tension, and all eyes turned to them, a breathless anticipation building.

  The big man got to his feet, staring at Luke with baleful eyes. Alice sat back in her seat, an expression of amusement upon her face, a grin flickering across her lips. Luke could tell she was weighing him. Taking his measure. In that hazel-eyed gaze, he saw that she was trying to see what sort of a man he was.

  And at that moment, Luke knew what sort of man he wanted to be. He wanted to be a man who did not back down from a challenge. A man who was not afraid to fight - and die - for what he believed was right. And he wanted those things mostly for himself, but partly because he knew, deep down in his bones, that was the sort of man Alice wanted.

  “Mebbe we need tae step outside, so I daenae sully thae tavern floor with yer blood,” the man growled.

  Luke got to his feet and swept the cloak back from his shoulders, laying his hand casually on the pommel of his sword. It had been his father’s blade, the last piece of his da he had. It was a long, curved blade with a crossguard fashioned to resemble the tentacles of a sea beast, the pommel its head; two chips of ruby had been embedded to resemble the eyes.

  The sword was light and graceful. Elegant. And Luke drew power and strength from it. His father had been a master swordsman. He could have been one of the old lord’s elite personal guards. But he had chosen a life upon the sea instead. While Luke wouldn’t follow his father in that regard, he trained relentlessly to be his equal with a blade in his hand.

  “Aye. Mebbe we should,” Luke said, his voice cold.

  The man’s lips curled upward in a grin. He turned to Alice and tipped her a wink, then erupted into laughter.

  “I like this lad,” he said. “He’s got stones, he does. Stones thae size of boulders, I’d say.”

  Alice smiled, and all around him, the common room burst into laughter, all of the tension that had saturated the air before vanishing like a puff of smoke on a breeze. Luke stood there, blinking, swept away by waves of confusion. The big man walked over, and Luke tensed, but with a smile on his face, he clapped him on the shoulder, a wide smile on his face. It helped ease some of his tension, but he still watched the man warily.

  “Ye’ve got stones, lad. I respect that,” the big man said. “I was just jestin’ with ye, lad. Ye can take yer hand off yer blade now.”

  Luke slowly lowered his hand, still trying to figure out what was happening. He looked over to Alice, whose smile was enigmatic and captivating, and she beckoned to him. Clearing his throat and trying to wipe the dumbstruck l
ook from his face, he picked up his mug of ale and walked over to her table, pulling a chair over, and sat down. The big man stood next to him, and Alice looked up at him.

  “I’ll come see ye later, Dand,” she said. “We can finish our discussion then.”

  The man raised an eyebrow at her, and Luke saw a sly grin on his face. He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling like thunder rolling in off the ocean.

  “Aye. We’ll dae that,” he said and set one of his large, meaty hands on Luke’s shoulder. “Watch over this one. She’s me cousin, so daenae let anythin’ happen to her, eh?”

  Inwardly, Luke felt a rush of relief upon hearing that Alice was his cousin, rather than his woman. It meant he had a chance after all. But he also felt like Alice was not simple prey to catch. In just the short time he’d known her, he knew she was different than any other woman he had ever known, and he found her intriguing and compelling in a hundred different ways.

  “Aye,” Luke replied. “On me honor.”

  “I think it more likely I’ll be thae one watchin’ over him,” Alice said.

  The large man - Dand, he’d heard Alice call him - nodded. “Aye. Probably so,” he said. “I just didnae want tae hurt his feelin’s.”

  Alice laughed out loud, and not even Luke could keep the smile from curling his lips upward. Luke thought Dand seemed to be a man capable of great violence, and one who was good in a fight - depending on which side of the blade you were on. But he also thought he seemed like a man quick to laugh and jest. A man who seemed to enjoy himself and life. Luke liked that. It was confusing, but he liked it.

  “I’ll see ye after,” Dand said.

  “Aye. After.”

  Luke watched the man walk away, still not entirely certain what was happening. When he turned to Alice, he found her watching him over the rim of her cup as she took a deep quaff of her ale.

  “So,” she said as she set the cup back down. “Tell me yer story, Luke Addair.”

  Chapter Three

  “I daenae have much of a story,” Luke said with a shrug.

  “We’ve all got a story.”

  “Then what’s yer story?” he countered.

  Aileas laughed and looked at him closely, a small smile playing across her lips. She thought him an attractive man - and not just because she’d been out at sea for so long. His hair was fair, almost white, and his green eyes sparkled like chips of emerald. He had high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a body that was broad through the shoulders and chest. Even through his jerkin and cloak, she could tell his body was taut with corded muscle.

  He was a swordsman, of that she was certain. Aside from the callouses on his hands, he carried himself with that sort of grace: light on his feet, a sure, firm set to his body. She could see that he was a man who took himself seriously, although she did notice a mischievous glint in his eye. She got the idea that he did his best to suppress it.

  Aileas found herself intrigued by the man. There was something about him she found compelling. Something that drew and interested her, and she found that she wanted to know more about him.

  “Nae goin’ tae tell me yer story, eh?” she teased.

  He shrugged. “I’m nobody special,” he replied. “Like I said, nae much of a story tae tell.”

  She pursed her lips and looked at him. He was obviously cautious and didn’t reveal much about himself. She could respect that. Fortunately for her, she knew exactly how to loosen a man’s tongue, and she was not above using everything in her bag of tricks to get what she wanted. Aileas smiled at him, then stood up.

  “Stay put,” she said, then walked over to the bar.

  “What’ll it be, lass?”

  “Whisky,” she replied. “Two cups.”

  The man was thick around the middle and had a shock of white hair on his head. He gave her a smirk but came back with what she’d ordered. Aileas dropped a couple of coins on the counter and carried the bottle and glasses back to the table. She dropped down into the chair and poured them both a drink, a crooked grin on her face.

  She slid one of the glasses over to Luke. He picked it up and raised it to her, a small smile on his face.

  “So what are we drinking to then?” he asked.

  Aileas thought it over for a moment, and couldn’t think of anything, so she shrugged. “We drink tae thae sea,” she said. “She’s a cold mistress, but I love her.”

  “I can drink tae that.”

  They tapped their cups together and drained them in one swallow. Aileas quickly refilled their cups and smiled at him, then raised her cup again, and they drank. They’d gone through four drinks, and he didn’t waver in the least.

  So, he can hold his drink—Tis good tae ken. Doesnae help me right now, though.

  “I’m thinkin’ ye ken how tae swing a sword,” she said.

  He nodded. “Aye. I ken me way around a blade.”

  “So, what dae ye dae then? Soldier? Assassin?”

  He laughed softly. “Neither. Nae really,” he replied. “Me da taught me how tae swing a sword.”

  “Surely ye dae somethin’,” she pressed.

  Luke let out a long breath. “I suppose technically, I’m a soldier,” he said. “I’m one of me lord’s men at arms.”

  “A soldier. I kent it.”

  “Aye. Ye’re a smart one,” he said. “But I aim tae be more than just a soldier.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, are ye now? And what might that be?”

  “One of me lord’s Black Wolves,” he said. “His personal guard.”

  She nodded. “Lofty goals,” she replied. “Tis good tae aim high.”

  “Aye. Tis what me ma always said.”

  Aileas couldn’t help but notice a flash of pain in his eyes when he said it. But it was gone in the next instant. It made her think his ma was no longer alive, and though she was tempted to ask, she held herself back, out of respect. She had no desire to cause him any undue pain.

  “So what about ye then?” he asked. “Ye daenae seem like thae normal merchants who come through Sowkirk.”

  “Nay?” she said with a laugh. “And what makes me different?”

  “Well, for one thing, ye’re nae fat, greasy, and ye daenae smell bad.”

  They shared a laugh together, and Aileas could see that mischievous sparkle in his eye he seemed to take such great care to hide.

  “I suppose I should take that as a compliment,” she said.

  “Aye. Suppose ye should,” he replied. “But I told ye my story. Now tell me yers. Ye daenae seem like a normal merchant. Nae dressed like that. More like… a pirate.”

  “A pirate? Ye dae have quite thae imagination, lad,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve had me fair share of dealin’ with pirates, and trust me, they daenae look anythin’ like me. But pray tell, how does a normal merchant dress then?”

  It was true enough that as the only female pirate she knew of, none of the others, in fact, looked like her. In Aileas’s experience, the men who ruled the sea and struck fear into the hearts of others were harder men. Gruffer. Most of them were greasy, dirty, and smelled terrible.

  “In finery,” he replied. “A merchant always likes tae look thae part of a rich man. Gold, furs, silks…”

  Aileas looked down at her outfit and frowned. He was right. She hadn’t thought of it when they made berth, but every merchant they’d encountered on the open sea had been dressed well. Definitely not in woolen breeches and leather jerkins. It amused her, though, to think how much in common the men in her trade had with the merchants they robbed, though the merchants did, in fact, always dress better.

  “I’m nae yer typical merchant,” she said, flashing him a grin. “Or yer typical woman. I fancy meself a different breed entirely.”

  “I can see that,” he replied. “I’m nae sure what ye are exactly, but yer definitely nae just a merchant.”

  She laughed. “We all have our secrets. And nay offense, but we daenae ken each other well enough yet for me tae spill all mine.”

  �
��I was goin’ tae say thae same thing tae ye.”

  Aileas raised her glass. “I’ll drink tae that.”

  They sat, drinking and talking long into the night. The crowd had thinned as the drunks staggered out, leaving them mostly alone in the common room. The conversation and banter flowed easily between them, and Aileas found herself unabashedly laughing more than she had in… longer than she could remember. She also shared more of herself and her story than she had in just as long… though she kept many details to herself.