“Addair!”
Luke froze and turned around at the sound of the Captain’s voice bellowing at him. He was crossing the field, coming straight for him, a scowl on his face. Luke was surprised for several reasons, not the least of which was that the Captain knew his name. He was an anonymous man at arms. There was no reason for Captain Headen to know him.
“Come with me, lad,” he said, his voice low and gruff.
The Captain never broke stride and continued walking, his black cloak fluttering in the breeze behind him. He obviously expected Luke to follow him, and though he was tight with apprehension, he did just that. He trailed after the Captain, feeling like a child following his father, knowing he was about to have his backside striped.
I dinnae do anythin’ worth a whippin’ though. What could thae Captain possibly want with me?
Luke continued to follow as they walked through the bailey, then over the wide wooden bridge that stood over the river that surrounded the keep and then inside. The entire way, the Captain hadn’t said a single word to him, only deepening the feeling of unease that had wrapped its icy tendrils around Luke’s heart and squeezed it tight.
Their boot steps echoed off the wide stone corridor as they walked. They passed a number of tall, arched doorways on both sides of them that branched off into corridors that led deeper into the keep. The corridor they walked ended in another tall, arched doorway that was barred by massive oak doors. One of the baron’s Black Wolves stood on either side of the entrance, hands hovering near the hilt of the swords on their hips.
As they approached, the Wolf on the left opened the door and let them inside. Luke had never been inside the keep before - the Wolves had barracks here, but the men at arms did not - and had to find accommodations of their own. Most had families and homes of their own. Luke lived alone in his family’s home. It was modest, but with his parents gone and having no other kin, it sometimes seemed too large for him.
They walked into Baron Begbie’s great hall. Tall stone columns lined the way on either side of him, soaring up to a domed and ribbed ceiling. Colored glass adorned the windows in the high peaks, giving it an almost cathedral feel.
“Come forward,” Baron Begbie beckoned.
Luke had only seen the baron on a handful of occasions, and only from a distance at that. The baron was a tall man, half a head taller than Luke. He had light brown hair tied into a braid that fell over his shoulder, a thick, shaggy beard of the same color, and dark eyes that were sharp, piercing, and never missed a thing. There was a quiet intelligence and wisdom about the man that Luke could feel.
He was thick through the chest and had broad shoulders and hands large enough, Luke thought, to grip and crush a man’s skull. Luke had seen visiting lords and had often remarked on how the years of fine food had thickened their middles. That didn’t seem to be the case with the baron. If anything, he seemed to grow bigger and stronger by the year, looking as if he could challenge a bear to a wrestling match… and win.
The stories he’d heard about the man extolled his virtues. His courage and strength, his wisdom, and his willingness to fight and die for those he loved. The legends surrounding Baron Begbie made him out to be a legend on par with William Wallace.
Captain Headen walked the three steps up to the dais to stand behind the baron’s chair, leaving Luke standing at the foot of the stairs. He eyed the ornately carved chair - dark wood, polished to a glossy sheen, filled with engraved images of wolves. Luke cleared his throat and shifted on his feet, feeling about as comfortable and natural as a fish on land. The baron paused a moment, looking him up and down, taking his measure. For what reason though, Luke had no idea.
“Luke Addair?”
“Aye. Tis me. Luke Addair, me lord,” he stammered, feeling like an idiot.
“Please, call me Fin,” the baron replied. “I abhor all of these formalities.”
Luke nodded, feeling his stomach churn. He cut a glance at Captain Headen, searching for a clue as to why he was standing in front of the baron.
“V - very well, me lor - Fin,” Luke caught himself, though calling him something so informal felt wrong. “How may I help ye?”
“I’m told ye made thae acquaintance of a certain red-haired lass of thae sea,” Fin said, a small grin on his face.
Luke looked from the baron to Captain Headen and back again. They both looked back at him expectantly, waiting for his reply. Luke cleared his throat and shifted on the balls of his feet.
“Are ye havin’ me watched, me lord?” he asked.
The baron chuckled. “I mean ye no offense, lad, but ye’re nae that important that I’d need tae have ye watched.”
“Nae offense taken,” Luke said, his confusion growing. “So how did ye ken about Alice?”
“Nothin’ happens in Sowkirk I daenae ken about, lad,” the baron replied. “Information’s power. It pays tae ken what’s happenin’. So when a pirate queen shows up unexpectedly, tis a good idea tae have eyes on her, eh? See what she’s about.”
Luke shook his head. “Pirate queen? I’m afraid I daenae ken what ye’re talkin’ about, me lord? She told me she’s a merchant. A trader.”
The baron exchanged a look with Captain Headen, then turned back to him, a small frown playing across his lips. Luke’s stomach churned, knowing Fin was about to tell him something he wasn’t going to like.
“I’m afraid she’s nae been truthful with ye, lad,” the baron said.
“About what?”
“At thae very least, about her name,” he said. “I daenae ken what else.”
Luke rocked back on his heels, feeling like he’d just been punched in the gut. He looked down at the ground, not wanting to believe what Fin was saying—not wanting to believe that Alice had lied to him—not wanting to believe that everything that happened last night was a lie.
Was that why she ran away? Because she knew she was bein’ false?
Luke’s gut churned, and anger simmered inside of him. He thought he was a good judge of people, and it never occurred to him that Alice was being false. Everything between them had seemed so sincere. So genuine. It had all been so smooth and easy. Natural.
Mebbe that should’ve been me first clue. Twas tae easy.
“Are ye certain, me lord?” Luke asked.
His face was grim. “I’m afraid so, lad. I’m sorry.”
Luke grimaced. “Dae ye ken her real name?”
Fin shook his head. “I daenae,” he replied. “All I ken is that she is called La Renarde de la Mer. The Sea Fox. She’s a pirate, lad. And Alice Garnier is nae her true given name.”
Luke grinned and chuckled as he shook his head. His instinct about her had been correct. He’d known she wasn’t a merchant, and he was fairly certain she was a pirate.
“We ken she’s been raidin’ and reavin’ on thae French coast, and all along thae Mediterranean,” the baron said. “She’s made quite a name for herself.”
“Ye sound as if ye’re impressed with her,” Luke noted. “As if ye respect her.”
The baron shrugged his large shoulders. “Hard nae tae be,” he said with a chuckle. “Ain’t many lasses who can be a ship’s captain, let alone a pirate ship’s captain. Takes a special sort of grit.”
Luke agreed with the assessment, but it still felt like a kick in the gut. That she’d lied to him stuck with Luke and fueled his anger. He had to stuff it all down and control himself in front of the baron. He’d lash out in some way later, probably sparring with somebody. Giving and perhaps taking a beating sounded good to him at that moment.
“Captain Headen tells me yer a good man,” the baron started. “Handy with a blade. Good fighter. Loyal. Smart.”
The baron’s words mollified him. Somewhat. He couldn’t help but feel like he was being buttered up for something.
“He also tells me ye’ve got designs on bein’ one of me Black Wolves,” the baron went on, leaning forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. “Is that true, lad?”
&nb
sp; Luke pursed his lips and nodded. “Aye. Tis a goal of mine.”
“Why have ye never fought a challenge bout?” the baron said. “Captain Headen tells me ye’re better with a blade than anybody out in thae field.”
A wry grin curled his lips. Luke had the same thought many times, but he didn’t think it proper or appropriate to give voice to it.
“I appreciate Captain Headen’s confidence in me,” he said evenly. “As for why I’ve nae fought a challenge bout… I daenae. Never seemed like thae right time.”
“Thae things we want never come at thae right time,” the baron said. “We’ve got tae make it thae right time ourselves.”
Luke nodded, hearing the wisdom in his words. Not that it made things any easier. Challenging Captain Headen, with so much on the line, was a daunting experience. One he hadn’t worked up the nerve to attempt yet.
“Are ye ready tae make it thae right time for yerself, Luke?” the baron asked.
“How so, me lord?”
“I need ye tae dae somethin’. A special mission for ye.”
Luke cocked his head. “And what it is ye’d have me dae?”
“Get close tae this La Renarde de la Mer,” he said. “I want tae ken what she’s doin’ in Sowkirk. I want tae ken if she’s up tae any mischief that needs tae be nipped in thae bud. And since ye’ve already got a rapport with her, it seems tae make thae most sense that ye’d keep an eye on her for me.”
It made sense except for the fact that Alice - this pirate queen - had run off and left him standing in an alley. Alone. But the more Luke thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea. It was an opportunity to impress Baron Begbie. Perhaps enough that he’d earn his way into the Wolves. But even more than that, he had a chance to get some of the answers he wanted from Alice - or whatever her name really was if he could find her.
“So what dae ye think, Luke?” the baron asked.
He nodded. “Aye. I’ll dae it.”
“That’s a good lad.”
Chapter Five
“Ye came back late last night,” Dand noted.
“Aye,” she replied.
They strolled along the edges of the market. Hidden behind a mass of slate gray clouds, the sun was rising toward midday, and the air about them was filled with the aroma of roasting meats. Aileas hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the familiar smells of home until that moment.
She inhaled deeply and couldn’t keep the smile from her face. She stopped at one of the tables and purchased them both a skewer of goat roasted in honey and spices and a sweet bun. Aileas and Dand walked casually through the market, and she noticed some faces that were vaguely familiar to her. She avoided those people. The last thing Aileas wanted or needed was to be recognized.
The most important thing for her was to be anonymous. To be invisible. She needed to make sure nobody knew she was back in Sowkirk until she moved on Bruce Pringle, the bastard who’d murdered her parents and slaughtered her entire clan. Aileas was reasonably confident that she didn't have to worry about being recognized from the twelve years that had passed between that night and now. But she knew it still behooved her to be cautious.
“Yep, twas pretty late when ye came back last night,” Dand said.
“Aye. Ye said that already.”
He nodded, a wide grin on his face. “Dinnae think ye heard me.”
“Oh, I heard ye,” she said, returning his grin. “I was just ignorin’ ye.”
Dand laughed, grease from the skewered meat dripping down his chin. Aileas laughed along with him.
“I’ve missed ye, Dand,” she said.
“Aye. I’ve missed ye tae, lass.”
He was her cousin but had always acted more like a big brother to her. Dand had always watched over her and had her back in all things. She’d been young when she left Scotland, but she never stopped thinking about her cousin. After all, he was the only living link to her family and one of the few of her clan that remained.
“So are ye goin’ tae tell me?” he asked.
“Tell ye what?”
He sighed dramatically. “Did ye bed thae lad from thae tavern last night?”
She laughed. “Why, were ye lookin’ for a chance with him?”
His laughter boomed over the market, and she cringed as it drew eyes toward them. Aileas pulled the hood of her cloak down a bit tighter, hiding her face. It took a moment, but Dand finally calmed down, allowing her to let out a breath of relief. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at her, his eyes still sparkling with mirth.
“I just want tae ken who’s beddin’ me cousin,” he said. “Who I need tae look out for, and who I might need tae kill.”
“While I appreciate thae concern, I think I can kill who needs to be killed on me own,” she said with a grin.
Aileas led Dand further along the row of stalls, passing vendors hawking their wares. The whole time, she was aware of his eyes on her. She shifted her cloak, trying to hide her face deeper in the shadows. It was a chilly, overcast morning, so it didn’t look out of place. Even as a child, she recalled that Dand had the uncanny ability to read her and know what she was feeling, if not thinking. He might have been the only person in all the world able to do that, and it never failed to leave her feeling unsettled.
“Tis nae about beddin’ thae lad for ye, was it?” he asked.
“What are ye talkin’ about?”
They stopped at a stall, and Aileas browsed the different knives on display. She picked up a long dagger, looking closely at it. The man behind the table eyed her suspiciously as if he expected her to bolt suddenly. Dand chuckled, that low bass rumbling coming from his chest sounding like a bear to her.
“Ye’re sweet on thae lad,” Dand said.
“I am nae,” she growled.
Aileas quickly put the blade down on the table and walked away, not caring to have the conversation with Dand. The truth was, she had felt something for Luke. Something she hadn’t expected, and something that had left her shaken. It was why she’d run away from him so quickly. She had never done emotions well. And after the murder of her family and slaughter of her clan, Aileas had never let herself feel close to anybody - let alone get close to them. Life was too impermanent, and those you cared for could be snatched away at any moment.
But something about Luke had stirred something deep inside of her. She thought back to the feeling of his body pressed to hers. To the way his mouth had felt and the taste of the honey and apple ale they’d shared on his tongue. Those memories made her recall the fires of desire that burned within her. Even now, she felt the warmth of the embers. It brought a small smile to her lips.
The smile faded though, when she thought of the way she had left him in that alley. Had run away from him like the Devil himself was chasing her. Aileas knew she’d left him with questions, and she felt terrible for it. She wanted to find him. To apologize. To spend more time with him. She wanted that more than she’d wanted anything for herself in quite a long time.
But she was here for a purpose. She was here for a reason, and Aileas knew she could not afford the distraction… regardless of how much she wanted it.
“Seems tae me like ye’re kind of sweet on him,” he chuckled.
“Well, I’m nae.”
His grin widened. “If ye say so,” he said. “I’m just sayin’. It seems like ye are.”
Aileas opened her mouth to refute him further but knew he was baiting her. Teasing her. In that way also, he was much more like an older brother, rather than a cousin, and she couldn’t help but smile and love him all the more for it.
“Shut it,” she said, her voice thick with affection.
As they passed another vendor selling sweet buns, Aileas grabbed a couple, flipped the woman a coin, and then handed one over to Dand.
“Yer goin’ tae get fat before we have tae fight,” he said.
Aileas patted him on the belly, a wolfish grin on her face. “Hasnae seemed tae slow you down any.”
“Oi. I’m a growin’ lad,” he said.
“Aye. Ye are. Tis thae way ye’re growin’ that concerns me.”
He laughed, then bit into the sweet bun anyway. Aileas took a bite of her own, savoring the pork in a sweet honey sauce inside as it hit her tongue.
“Tis been tae long since I’ve had a proper sweet bun,” she said.
“Well, now that ye’re back, ye can gorge yerself on ‘em tae yer heart’s content.”
“Aye. And I plan tae dae just that.”
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, relishing their treat. Aileas’s mind continued to spin with images of Luke and memories of their time together. She could almost feel his lips, whisper-soft upon her skin. She quickly pushed all those thoughts away and turned to Dand, knowing she needed to focus her mind on something else, lest memories of her time with Luke take control of her thoughts again.
Every Highland Sin: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 5
