He shook his head. How did she always manage to turn every conversation into a matter of grave import? He was going to make it his personal mission over the next few days not only to make her smile, but to show her that not everything needed to be so bloody serious.
“I don’t always do what I want,” he said bluntly, his eyes locking on hers.
To hell with it. He was done fighting this strange attraction sizzling between them—especially after the desire he’d seen on her face earlier. Once he got this lust out of his system, his strange fascination with the lass would end. The fact that she was a maid didn’t trouble him; he could control himself.
“If I did, I wouldn’t have stopped with a kiss, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have been sleeping outside the past few nights—alone.”
The sharp little intake of air that greeted his bold declaration sent a hot thrill of anticipation shooting through him. It seemed an acknowledgment.
“You shouldn’t say such things,” she said, flushing scarlet.
“Why not? I want you. And you know what?”
She eyed him warily.
“You want me, too.”
“You’re wrong,” she said quickly, looking away. “I know it’s hard for that arrogant head of yours to comprehend, but not everyone thinks you are irresistible.”
We’ll see about that. He smiled, content to let her hold on to that lie for a little longer. But he’d just thrown down the gauntlet. He was looking forward to watching her struggle not to pick it up—but not quite as much as he was looking forward to the moment when she did. For Erik MacSorley did not doubt for a minute that eventually she would.
Twelve
Ralph de Monthermer was a patient man. He’d learned that patience in the month he’d spent in the tower, waiting for Edward to decide whether to divest him of his head for the treasonous offense of marrying his daughter without permission.
Then, as now, Ralph’s patience had been rewarded.
He’d been searching for Lady Elyne and the infamous hawk ship for days—careful not to spread word of a missing woman for fear that the scourge would use her as a ransom—with nothing but wind-burned skin, an aching back, and sore arms to show for it.
He’d been stymied at every turn by belligerent barbarians. The Islanders were sheltering them, he knew it. But finding one ship among the hundreds of Isles along the western coast of Scotland was like trying to find a pin at the bottom of the ocean.
Now, at last, they had word.
A message had been delivered this morning to Finn, the earl’s seneschal, claiming that “Ellie the nursemaid” was safe and would be returned home soon. It had to be her. Lady Elyne was smart—she would have realized that it was safer to keep her true identity hidden. The messenger had disappeared before they could question him, but Ralph had been tracking him all day.
It was only a matter of time before they found Lady Elyne and the outlaw who held her.
Ralph hopped over the rail onto the jetty, leaving his men to secure the galley, not stopping until he stalked under the iron gate of Dunluce Castle. He jerked off his steel helm and tossed it to one of the men who rushed forward to attend him. Raking his fingers through his rumpled hair, he allowed another guardsman to relieve him of the heavy cloak he wore over his armor and knight’s tabard.
But he wasn’t just a knight. The king had made him an earl again. A title he’d held previously but had been forced to relinquish upon his wife’s death. His heart knifed, the pain still cruelly sharp. He would give everything he had—his titles, his wealth, his life—to have Joan back again. But Joan was gone, and he was the Earl of Atholl—the Scottish earldom recently vacated by the execution of the former earl, who’d made the deadly decision to follow Bruce.
Ralph grimaced. He had no taste for Edward’s bloodlust, but the king was unrelenting. His rage at Bruce—whom he’d treated like a son—and his followers knew no bounds. Ralph no longer wanted to guess at the extremes the king would go to in order to see the rebellion crushed; he feared he wouldn’t like what he saw.
The chain from his mail clinked as he strode into the hall. Word of his arrival had preceded him and the earl and his family were waiting for him, including the one person he wanted to avoid.
Although he was careful not to look at her, he knew Lady Mathilda was there simply by the way his blood fired. His attraction to the girl—unlike to her sister to whom he was engaged—angered him. It was wrong. Not only because he was betrothed to her sister, but because Joan had been gone for only sixteen months. His body’s reaction seemed a betrayal of the woman he’d loved with all his heart.
Lady Elyne was the better match. She wasn’t wild and vivacious, but serene and stately. She wouldn’t embarrass him at court with whatever impulsive—no matter how charming—thought came out of her mouth, and would be a caring mother to his children. But most important, she wouldn’t make him forget the love he’d had for his wife.
“Have you found them?” Ulster demanded the moment he stepped into the large room.
Ralph could feel the weight of Lady Mathilda’s gaze on him but did not look in her direction. “Not yet. But we are close.” They waited for him to explain. “I tracked the messenger to a boat that arrived at Ballycastle this morning from Kintyre.”
They’d been lucky. The messenger had been careless in covering his tracks—although he probably hadn’t anticipated having the full force of two earls after him when he’d delivered a message about a nursemaid. It hadn’t taken much “persuading” to convince people to talk when Ralph arrived with a fleet of heavily armed English soldiers.
Ulster didn’t seem impressed. “The message could have originated from anywhere.”
Ralph nodded. “Aye, but I don’t think so. I think they’re close. I think the king is right.”
King Edward was convinced that Bruce was planning something. It was the reason both Ralph and Ulster had been ordered to bring their fleets to the Ayrshire coast of Scotland as soon as possible. They were to leave first thing in the morning.
“Why?” Ulster asked. “What did you find?”
“The fishing boat originated from the village near Dunaverty Castle. When I questioned the commander of the garrison, he mentioned something interesting. He said there had been nothing more unusual than the typical ghost sightings.”
“What does that have to do with Ellie?” Lady Mathilda asked.
He could no longer avoid looking at her. He braced himself, but it didn’t prevent the jolt when their eyes met. She’d attempted to tame the riotous mass of golden curls into a pile on her head, but errant tendrils hung around her face and long ivory neck. Her big, baby-blue eyes were still red with strain but no longer swollen with tears. She was simply one of the most gorgeous creatures he’d ever seen. He tamped down his reaction beneath the heavy weight of guilt—where it belonged.
When he answered, his expression betrayed nothing but brotherly concern. “At first I wasn’t sure it had anything to do with Lady Elyne. Highlanders are a superstitious lot; they see ghosts and fairies everywhere. But then I remembered some of the tales swirling around about a band of phantom marauders who’ve been sighted off-and-on around Turnberry and Ayr the past few months.”
“You think these phantoms are connected to Bruce and his men,” Ulster said.
“Aye, I think they might be.” He relayed his questioning of the young servant boy who’d claimed to come face-to-face with the purported ghost. “If this ghost is the source of our message, then I think he must be close to the castle. It’s a place to start at least.”
“Do you think he will lead you to Bruce?” John asked.
“The king thinks he will,” Ralph said. The king’s orders had been clear: track the hawk ship and you will find Bruce.
“I don’t care about any of that,” Lady Mathilda said, “as long as you find Ellie.”
He heard the soft plea in her voice and knew he would not—could not—fail her. She was counting on him. He would find Lady Elyne
and bring her home safely, no matter what it took.
And in doing so, he would close a door that had never really been open.
Thirteen
“Where are we going today? Am I finally going to see the cave you told me about?”
Ellie was careful to keep any excitement or curiosity from her voice, but after two days together Hawk wasn’t so easily fooled. She could feign nonchalance all she wanted, but he knew she’d been having fun.
Too much fun. His adventurous spirit and bold nature were contagious. He made her laugh, prodding and teasing her until she had no choice but to join him. His easygoing nature made him so easy to be around.
How long had it been since she’d felt so carefree? Since she’d been so happy?
Matty had been right. After her mother’s and brother’s deaths, she’d forgotten how to have fun. How to smile. How to relax. How to run through the sand barefoot with the wind streaming through her hair. And now that she’d remembered, how was she going to go back to the confined existence that was waiting for her?
To a marriage I don’t want.
There it was. For the first time she’d given voice to what her body had been trying to tell her for a long time. She didn’t want to marry Ralph de Monthermer. She supposed she had the captain’s question to thank for the unwelcome self-realization.
Hawk was wrong. She didn’t have a choice. She was the Earl of Ulster’s daughter.
When the time came, she would walk away and not look back. She would do her duty, but until then, she would eke out every moment of happiness that she could. On those long, lonely days in the future, when she was sitting in a tower room with nothing but embroidery to keep her occupied, she would have something to remember.
She felt a sharp pang in her chest and feared that too many memories would be focused on the man by her side.
I want you. Hearing him say it out loud had made it that much harder to ignore her own desire. The past few days had been a delicate dance of avoidance, but his words still hung between them like a giant albatross.
She couldn’t understand how she could be attracted to someone who was so utterly wrong for her. If living through her mother’s unrequited love and heartbreak wasn’t lesson enough, he was also an outlaw. A man who lived on the run, under a cloud of danger, with only the end of a rope or an axe in his future.
Her body didn’t seem to be listening to reason, but as long as her heart did, that was all that mattered.
“Nay, not the cave today,” he said.
Ellie pursed her mouth, trying not to show her disappointment. “I’m beginning to wonder whether this underwater cave really exists.”
He smiled. “It exists, but today I have a different surprise,” he said, unfurling his arm and tossing a rock far out into the sea beyond.
“You shouldn’t do that,” she chided him automatically. “You’ll open your wound.”
“My wound is fine, and I thought you were going to stop acting like my nursemaid.”
“When you stop acting like a recalcitrant child, I’ll stop acting like your nursemaid,” she replied tartly. “Just because I’m apparently the only woman on this island who doesn’t think you can do no wrong—”
“Not just this island.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are impossible. Fine, go ahead. Rip it open. You’ll have ten women standing in line to wait on you hand and foot.”
He shook his head. “I knew you were angry. I told you, I didn’t know they would show up.”
Last night Meg had packed a basket of food for Ellie to take to Hawk down at the camp. She’d just arrived when three other women arrived at the cave with the same idea.
“I wasn’t angry; I was happy to get back to my game with Thomas.”
Liar. After the day of fun they’d had exploring some of the caves south of the bay (where he’d mentioned this alleged underwater cave), she’d been unaccountably disappointed. And then something else entirely, when one of the women—a pretty, buxom blonde—had given him a long kiss in greeting. The fact that he hadn’t returned it didn’t matter. Neither had he pushed her away.
Ellie had gotten out of there as fast as she could. The hot lump in her chest was a harsh reminder that no matter how much fun she was having, it was only temporary. It was nothing special. She couldn’t lose sight of that.
How many times had she seen her mother try to hide her heartbreak when her father turned his eye on another woman? He can’t help it, her mother would say with false brightness. Look how handsome he is. The women love him.
Ellie might have captured the captain’s interest for now, but it wouldn’t last. She suspected it was the novelty of being refused that was driving him. He was a competitor, and she was a challenge. If she’d been smarter, she would have fallen all over him like every other woman did.
But part of her wondered whether she was giving him short shrift, and that maybe he felt the connection, too.
“You and the lad seem to have much in common,” he said.
“We do,” she agreed, wondering why his jaw looked so tight. Thomas and she shared many interests—chess, backgammon, poetry, falconry. She was convinced that he was a nobleman. But Thomas evaded her questions almost as skillfully as his captain did. “He doesn’t like it when you call him ‘lad.’ Thomas is a man full-grown.”
“Is that right?”
There was something steely in his voice that sent an excited shiver down her spine. He gave her a sideways glance before tossing another stone. When he winced, she jumped toward him with concern. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt?”
He flashed her a very unrepentant grin. “Nay, I just wanted to see if you cared.”
Ellie shook her head. He truly was incorrigible. But it didn’t bother her anymore. Not that she’d let him know it. “Do that again and you won’t be pretending.”
He just smiled, a tad too smugly for her liking. “Aren’t you curious about the surprise?”
“What use is there being curious when I know you won’t tell me no matter how many times I ask?”
“There are other ways of persuasion, Ellie.”
Something in his voice made her skin feel hot and her knees turn to jelly. This strange, crackling tension between them was getting harder and harder to resist. Standing here like this, close to him, it became nearly overwhelming.
He was tempting her with his eyes and seducing her with his nearness. It would be so easy to touch him. To lean over and press her hand up against that impossibly hard chest, the contours and planes of which she could recall so vividly in her mind, and feel his warmth radiating under her fingertips. She wanted to taste him again, to feel his mouth moving over hers.
Why shouldn’t she? He was obviously encouraging her. All the other women did.
But that was exactly the problem. She didn’t want to be everyone else, and with a man like him, that was all she could ever be. Yet at times, she wondered if—
She stopped herself. “If” was a dangerous question she could not afford to ask.
Why was she even thinking about it? Whether she wanted to be or not, she was betrothed.
Ignoring the invitation, she said, “When do you plan on showing me this surprise?”
“In a few hours.” He pointed up to the hazy sky, which for February had been remarkably clear of rain for the past few days. “It looks like it’s going to be a sunny day.”
He was right. And later, when she discovered what his surprise was, she was grateful for it.
She stood pressed up tightly against him—forgetting all about her intention not to touch him—gazing over the precipitous edge of a a twenty-foot cliff to the swirl of waves below.
“You can’t be serious. This is your surprise?”
He grinned, shaking his head. “The surprise is afterward, and I’m very serious.”
Despite the relative warmth of the day, she shivered. “It’s the middle of winter.”
“The cold water didn’t stop you before.”
She
gave a sharp laugh, eyeing the deep-blue pool below. It was hard to believe Candlemas had been just nine days ago. “And look where that got me. Not to mention that it took me two days to feel warm again.”
He grinned. “It won’t take you that long this time. I promise.”
Something about the way he said it peaked her curiosity. She eyed him speculatively, but he just sat there with a knowing glint in his eye.
Irresistible, she thought. Almost.
“Come on, Ellie. You love swimming,” he said. How could he know that? “You must; you swim like a mermaid.”
Her cheeks heated. The compliment pleased her too much—especially coming from the best swimmer she’d ever seen.
He removed his weapons, placed them under a rock where they wouldn’t be visible from the path, and then started taking off his clothes, carelessly tossing them to the side. She was so transfixed, she didn’t even feel the urge to fold them for him.
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
She couldn’t form a response; her pulse was beating too fast, watching as he peeled off each layer of clothing. The man had no shame. Why should he, with a body like a finely honed weapon of war? He started to lift off the plain tunic he wore under his cotun, and she knew the linen braies would come next.
“Don’t!” she cried with a burst of maidenly alarm (and that innate sense of self-preservation).
He grinned, and she realized he’d only been testing her. Incorrigible. But at least she wasn’t being forced to contend with his bare chest and … more.
He chuckled, the husky sound reverberating in her bones. “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “You can watch if you’re too scared.”
She scowled. “I’m not too—”
The wretch! He was already gone, leaping off the cliff, somersaulting in the air, and plunging into the water with the effortless grace of a man who’d been diving off cliffs his whole life, which he undoubtedly had.
The Hawk: A Highland Guard Novel Page 18
