Highland Knight

by Hannah Howell

  "Many people take pilgrimages to holy places in England."

  "Gilly, ye are astoundingly clever at times,” Avery said, and she grinned briefly when Gillyanne blushed.

  "I will confess that I sometimes possess a rather devious turn of mind,” she murmured; then she looked back at Cameron. “There must be some of your people who arenae weel kenned by Sir Charles and his men—ones who would need little more than a somewhat concealing cloak to pass by the DeVeaux unrecognized."

  "A small group,” Avery continued. “Mayhap a half dozen and one heavily laden cart, plus a few of the more common horses. One woman and Gillyanne."

  "Me?” Gillyanne squeaked at the same time that Cameron said, “Nay."

  "Aye. A wee group of pilgrims willnae draw interest for long. Howbeit, a lass who has vowed to sing all the way to the holy shrine will surely hold most of the village's attention."

  If Gillyanne sang her way through the town, Cameron doubted even the men on the ship would notice the people slipping aboard. It was a perfect diversion. Unfortunately, it could all too easily put Gillyanne in a great deal of danger.

  "I cannae risk the lass,” he said, struggling to ignore the murmurs of disappointment he heard.

  "And I cannae sing in front of so many people,” Gillyanne protested. “And, in truth, why should that hold anyone's attention for verra long?"

  "Gilly, ye ken that ye have a voice people like to hear,” Avery said. “And, for most people, the chance to hear a verra fine singer is as rare as a too-hot day in Scotland.” She looked at Cameron next. “I dinnae think Gillyanne will be in any greater danger than if she was trying to slip aboard a ship encircled by verra alert DeVeau soldiers."

  The argument that ensued did not last very long. Cameron's only real objection was that he did not want to put Gillyanne in any danger, but Avery was right. Gillyanne would be in as much danger, if not more, if she tried to sneak aboard a well-guarded ship. Cameron and the few men he would take with him could not close the eyes of all the DeVeau guard, and that guard would be the heaviest and the most alert around any ship prepared to sail. He reluctantly agreed to the plan, but only if some of the “pilgrims” were men who could fight if the need arose.

  As Avery helped Anne—who had been chosen as one of the pilgrims—and Gillyanne to prepare, she tried not to regret that she could not be a part of the adventure. Anne's husband, Ranald, and three other soldiers chosen for their rather ordinary appearance would also go. Donald was going to play the sickly lad the pilgrimage was intended to cure. Cameron and Leargan were busily packing the horses and cart with as much as they could carry. The abundance of goods carried by the pilgrims could be easily explained. Penances, indulgences, and blessings did not come cheaply.

  "I wish I hadnae thought of this,” Gillyanne muttered as Avery pinned up her hair.

  "'Twas inspired, Gilly,” Avery said.

  "Aye, by the fact that ye were about to suggest they just hand ye o'er to that swine."

  "How did ye ken I was about to do that?” Avery had to admit that sometimes Gillyanne's insights could be rather unsettling.

  "Ye had that this-is-all-my-fault look upon your face. I ken that Cameron wouldnae have done it, but I didnae e'en want to hear the argument that would ensue. And what is my reward? I must sing my way past a horde of strangers."

  "Wheesht, lassie, it cannae be any worse than what I must do,” said Anne as she pinned on her head-covering. “I must try to keep from laughing o'er the mere thought that my mon is playing at being a priest."

  "He did ken a great deal of what a priest should say,” Avery said. “Prayers and blessings. And, he speaks French as if he was born here."

  Anne shrugged. “'Tis just a skill he has. I do swear the mon recalls every word he has e'er heard uttered, and he is a fair mimic. Acting pious will certainly put a strain upon him, however. The rogue.” She laughed along with Gillyanne and Avery, then straightened her shoulders and brushed down the skirts of her dull brown gown. “Let us be off, then. Sooner begun, sooner ended."

  "Just where did Ranald get all of those priestly things, anyway?” Avery asked, and she was not really surprised when Anne's reply was to grab Gillyanne by the arm and hurry away to join the other false pilgrims.

  Avery joined the group that would enter the village at the opposite end of where the pilgrims were to enter. They were almost done emptying the carts that would be left behind. Their supplies and belongings were packed onto the horses and their own backs. The horses were going to cause the most difficulty, Avery thought as she secured a heavy pack upon her back with Therese's help. A horse could not creep aboard like a person could, and it was not easy to quickly hide it away. Cameron's plan to unpack them at dockside, then at the last moment have two men take them aboard as if they were horsetraders was a good one, but the presence of the animals in the venture still made her uneasy.

  She was disappointed that she got no chance to say anything to Cameron before he, Leargan, Wee Rob, Colin, and two other men left to slip into town and silence as many of DeVeau's men as possible. A brief exchange of waves was all she managed with Gillyanne before each of their groups went their separate ways. Every step of the way into town, Avery prayed that she was right to feel so confident in the plans that had been made. It was terrifying enough to know that if it all failed, she would end up back in Sir Charles's hands, but even more so to think that Gillyanne could fall into his grasp as well.

  Cameron released the man he had just killed, sighing as he then dragged the body into the deeper shadows at the back of the alley. He did not like killing a man this way, slipping up behind him and striking without warning. Most of the guards he had silenced with a sharp, solid knock on the head, then left them tied and gagged. This man, however, had caught sight of one of his people slipping aboard the ship and had been about to cry out an alarm. It had been necessary to swiftly end that threat but Cameron much preferred a face-to-face battle to stealthy throat slitting.

  Then, almost as if to ease his troubled soul, Gillyanne's remarkable voice cut through the air. He grinned when everything suddenly went still. Cameron mused that he would not be surprised if even the scavenging dogs had suddenly sat down to listen. He just hoped that his men were now accustomed enough to be able to ignore Gillyanne and go about their work, although he doubted anyone could ever listen to that voice with only a casual interest. There was just something about it that reached deep inside a person and grabbed hold.

  As he kept Gillyanne's little troop in sight and watched for any more of Sir Charles's men who might need their eyes closed, Cameron began to make his way toward the ship. He had caught the occasional sight of his people boarding the ship and could only pray that they were all aboard by the time he and the “pilgrims” arrived. When he caught sight of a shadowy form inching closer, he tensed, then relaxed with a sigh when he recognized Leargan.

  "Nearly everyone is on board,” Leargan reported. “They will begin to load the horses in a minute. That wee lass has everyone's attention fixed firmly upon her. ‘Tis as if they are all bewitched. E'en the bastard ye ache to kill,” he added with a nod toward the inn.

  Cameron followed the direction of his cousin's gaze and silently cursed. Sir Charles did look spellbound, but the way the man's attention was fixed so intently upon Gillyanne and her group made Cameron nervous. He could not feel completely certain that Sir Charles would not recognize any of them. There was also the chance that Sir Charles might simply decide he wanted Gillyanne, wanted to possess that beautiful voice for his own personal enjoyment.

  Avery stood beside the burly captain, who leaned on the ship's railing, sighing with pleasure as he listened to Gillyanne sing. Everything seemed to be going very well, but Avery was not sure she should trust in her own sense of safety. Her uncanny ability to sense approaching danger had not been completely reliable lately. She suspected that the emotional turmoil she was in was the cause. When Gillyanne paused in her singing, Avery smiled at the captain, who was wiping
the tears from his cheeks.

  "My cousin sings like an angel, doesnae she?” Avery said, patting his arm. “Her father, Sir Eric Murray, laird of Dubhlinn, is so verra proud of her."

  "Sir Eric Murray? He is kin to the MacMillans of Bealachan, isnae he?"

  "Aye, their nephew. They have given my cousin a wee piece of land as a dowry so fond of her are they."

  "I am a distant cousin, ye ken."

  Since his name was MacMillan, Avery had already suspected the possibility of a connection, but she feigned surprise. “Weel, it does ease my mind to learn that we will be guided across the waters by a kinsmon.” She sighed and shook her head. “I just hope my cousin can make it aboard safely."

  "Why shouldnae she? Is she in some danger?"

  "I cannae be sure, but the mon who seeks to use me for his own gains may weel try to grab her in my stead. He may e'en think to rob Scotland of that beautiful voice and hold it captive for his own selfish enjoyment."

  "Thieving French,” Captain MacMillan muttered, and he signaled to his men.

  It was hard, but Avery bit back a smile when the sailors all armed themselves. Cameron's men already stood by the ship's railing armed with bows and arrows. Now they would have the added strength of over a dozen hardened sailors. The captain had been sympathetic enough to allow them to sail with him and not turn them over to DeVeau, but now she had given him reason enough to fight for them, too.

  She watched as Cameron and his men arrived. The others slipped aboard while Cameron and Leargan helped Anne and the others get the cart and the horses onto the ship. Gillyanne stood on the dock, singing sweetly while Ranald blessed the sea and the vessel. Avery was just starting to relax when suddenly, Sir Charles and four other men came up behind Gillyanne. Before Ranald could stop him, Sir Charles grabbed Gillyanne and held a knife to her throat. Ranald faced them, sword drawn, but there was nothing he could do. Cameron and Leargan stood at the base of the ship's loading ramp, swords raised, but equally as helpless.

  "Did ye think I would be long fooled by this game, Lady Avery?” called Sir Charles.

  "Aye,” Avery replied with a calm she did not feel. “Just how did ye guess?"

  "Sir Renford here,” he nodded to the man on his right, “suddenly recognized the girl. A man often recalls well a woman he hungered for but did not have the chance to possess. Now, I suggest you bring your sweet self down here if you ever wish to hear this little bird warble another tune."

  When Avery moved as if to obey that command she was halted by Wee Rob, who stepped up behind her, grabbed her by both arms, and kept her pinned against the railings. Cameron never took his gaze from Sir Charles as he signaled to his men. Avery looked from one side of her to the other to see Cameron's men with their bows drawn, the arrows aimed steadily at Sir Charles. All the sailors also had their weapons raised—some with bows, others with swords or cudgels. Even Sir Charles, in all his cold arrogance, had to see that he would be dead the moment he drew one drop of blood from Gillyanne. Avery prayed that he was not insane enough to think that he could somehow escape, or worse, that he might decide to take Gillyanne down with him in some twisted act of revenge. She stood tense and afraid in Wee Rob's hold as Sir Charles's companions talked to him.

  "Let the girl go, DeVeau,” Cameron said in French. “There is no winning this game."

  "My men...” began Sir Charles as he slowly took the knife away from Gillyanne's throat.

  "Most of them are dead or tied up. I doubt you can muster any more than the four fools now cowering behind you."

  "I am not fond of losing,” said Sir Charles, but he shoved Gillyanne toward Ranald, who picked the girl up under one arm and ran for the ship. Sir Charles then bowed toward Avery. “Until we meet again."

  "I do believe I have seen enough of France,” Avery replied; then, released from Wee Rob's grip, she hurried to greet Gillyanne.

  Cameron stood at the railing, watching Sir Charles as the ship pulled away from the dock. “That was a verra close call."

  "Aye,” agreed Leargan, standing at his side. “Fortunately, Sir Charles loves himself more dearly than he loves to win.” Leargan glanced toward Avery and Gillyanne, deep in conversation with the captain. “Did ye ken that yon captain is a kinsmon of wee Gillyanne's?"

  "Not until a few minutes ago.” Cameron tightened his grip upon the railing as the ship began to gain speed. “Do ye think the lasses will try to get him to help them escape from us?"

  Leargan also held the railing tightly as his face began to turn a greenish-grey. “I suspect it has occurred to them, but ‘twill also occur to them that someone could get hurt, and they willnae wish that to happen."

  Feeling himself break out into a cold, uncomfortable sweat, and knowing that he probably looked as bad as Leargan, Cameron laughed shakily. “I dinnae think we would be able to put up much of a fight, do ye?"

  His cousin's only reply was an agonized groan, and a heartbeat later, Cameron heard himself echo it.

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  Chapter Sixteen

  "Ah, weel, I can see that this journey isnae going to be the romantic interlude I had hoped for."

  Cameron started to turn over and look at Avery, only to frown when he could not. “My wrists are lashed to the railing."

  "Aye.” Avery knelt down next to Cameron, thinking that she had never seen a man look quite so miserably ill. “Wee Rob was afraid ye might fall into the sea right along with the contents of your belly."

  "Leargan?” Cameron looked from side to side but could not see his cousin.

  "Anne and Gillyanne have already untied him and taken him to a bed."

  "How can that help him? The beds move."

  "True, but we have a potion that will help. We have made a lot of it, for near half your men fell ill."

  He looked at her, noticed that she looked no more than attractively windblown and sun-kissed, and deeply resented it. “Have ye been taking this potion?"

  "Nay.” She brushed the sweat-matted hair from his pale forehead and decided that he needed a wash as well as another dosing.

  "Of course not,” he grumbled. “Why should I be surprised that Murray lasses are all accomplished sailors?"

  Avery started to untie his wrists. “Actually, Gillyanne and I havenae sailed much at all. Just on the trip o'er to France."

  "Ye arenae making me feel any kindlier toward ye."

  "Tsk, and after Wee Rob and I worked so hard to get those doses down your wretched throat."

  Cameron could faintly recall someone pouring some evil tasting brew into him; then he realized that he was actually sensible for the first time since the ship had set sail. “Just how long have I been lashed to this railing?"

  "'Tis near the end of the second day,” she replied as she put her arm around his waist and helped him stand up.

  He frowned down at the top of her head as she half dragged him toward her cabin. “Ye shouldnae get so close. I probably stink."

  "Ye do that, but ‘tis why I have had a bath prepared for ye in my cabin."

  "Dinnae I have my own cabin?"

  "Nay. There are only a few and the captain gave them to the women, although they are somewhat crowded with sick men now.” She struggled to hold him steady with one arm as she unlatched the door to her tiny cabin. “Now ye will be crowding mine."

  Cameron wanted to protest that, but he was feeling too ill to argue about anything. He stood unsteadily as she handed him a goblet of some herbal concoction and then began to take off his clothes. This arrangement was going to ruin his plan to keep his distance from her. Then he decided he was probably too sick to be entrapped by his own passions, and he relaxed.

  The potion tasted horrible, but he finished it and gratefully accepted the wine Avery gave him to cleanse the taste of it from his mouth. As he sank down into the hot bathwater with a sigh of pleasure, he realized he had not felt his stomach clench in quite a while. Vile-tasting though it was, the potion obviously helped.

  "I think your potio
n is working,” he said as she washed his hair.

  "It usually does after the fourth dosing,” she replied as she tilted his head back and, with a pitcher full of clean water, carefully rinsed the soap from his hair. “Ye have just downed your sixth."

  "'Tis so foul of taste, I am surprised it doesnae make me even sicker."

  Avery laughed softly as she scrubbed his back. Leaving him on deck for two days had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. He had been so wretchedly ill, she had ached with her inability to do any more than force her potion down his throat and wait for it to begin its work. Now, however, she could see some advantage to having the worst of it pass before bringing him into the cabin. He now had a clean, fresh-smelling place in which to regain his strength.

  And, she thought with an inner smile as she washed his feet and legs, he was somewhat at her mercy at the moment. She had decided that Gillyanne was right. It was foolish to allow him to keep a distance between them. If nothing else, she could not allow him to steal away what little time she had left to gather a few memories in his arms. If he still sent her away after they reached Cairn-moor, he would be stealing most of the joy from her future. She would not let him steal the joys and pleasures of the present as well. The definite signs of arousal he revealed as she finished bathing him told her that he still desired her and that it was time he ceased to hide from the passion they could share.

  "I think I have recovered enough to dry myself,” Cameron said as he stepped out of the bath.

  Avery handed him the drying cloth and went to answer the knock at the door. Two men came in, set a tray of food down on a small table at the far end of the little cabin, then dragged the tub away. By the time they were gone, Cameron was dressed in the robe she had set out for him and was sitting at the table, eyeing the food a little warily.

  "Ye can eat something,” she said as she went to a large basin filled with hot water and began to take off her gown. “It willnae hurt, though I would go slowly. Your innards are undoubtedly a little tender."