HIS HIGHLAND LOVE: His Highland Heart Series Book 2

by Blair, Willa

  Phillippe approached at his usual nonchalant pace, looking for all the world like he was out for an evening stroll, enjoying the breeze. But Kenneth planned to take advantage of the breeze to carry anything he or Phillippe said out to sea and keep their conversation private from anyone inside the castle.

  “A lovely evening,” Phillippe greeted him. “Though I’m certain you did not ask to speak to me here so we could enjoy the view.”

  Kenneth leaned against the balustrade. To anyone below, they would appear to be having a casual conversation. “Ye ken me too well. ’Tis time to settle things between us.”

  “Ah, the matter of my debt to you—”

  “Can be paid in kind—by helping me leave here as I once helped ye escape.”

  “Are you so eager to join in the coming battle?”

  “To fight? Nay. What sane man is? But nay matter who wins or loses, Albany will have nay reason to release me—or to keep me alive. If he wins, he has nay need for hostages. If he loses, I go from guest to prisoner of war and liability.”

  Phillippe turned to gaze out over the dark water. “I see. But what you ask is very dangerous—for you and for me—if I help you and am discovered.”

  “I risked as much to save ye from the hangman’s noose in France, ye ken.” Kenneth joined him in facing outward, but turned his head to regard Phillippe and the mud flats beyond him. Past them, a wide sandy beach stretched up the coast for miles at low tide. “I must go before it is too late. Ye are the only one in this castle I can trust to help me.”

  “A fighter such as ye—”

  “I will no’ damn my immortal soul by harming or—God forfend—killing a priest to escape. No’ if I can leave here by any other means.”

  “Your nobility is one of the qualities I most prefer about you, mon ami.”

  Kenneth snorted. “Nobility does me no good if it gets me killed. Ye have been here long enough to learn the weak points of this structure and its guards.” He forced his arm to his side to keep from waving at the castle walls and attracting attention. If anyone guessed what such a gesture meant, coming from him, he’d never get away. “Surely by now ye have learned the best way to leave this castle unnoticed and used it? Or have ye reformed after Marilee betrayed ye?” Betrayed Kenneth, too.

  “She was a viper, to betray a priest.”

  “She was also a good lay, and ye were dabbling in the resistance and selling information to both sides,” Kenneth growled, but kept his voice low. “If ye had picked a side, she might no’ have been able to condemn ye as she did, but she found out and made certain both Armagnacs and Burgundy’s followers distrusted ye. ’Twas all I could do to keep ye from them both and get ye away.”

  “An effort I applaud most heartily, mon ami.”

  “I was happy there, ye ken, until we both learned what a bitch Marilee truly was. Since I’ve returned to Scotland, nothing has gone right. Iain wasted no time sending me to Sterling. So here I am. And, to my good fortune, here ye are as well, Phillippe.”

  “Where will you go, if, as you say, you need to leave Scotland?”

  Kenneth shook his head. “One problem at a time, eh? Get me out of the castle unseen. I’ll worry about the rest. The nights are short, so I must be out one of the city gates as soon as they open and use every hour to put distance between me and this place.”

  “I must think on this. Let us speak again tomorrow…”

  Frustration mounting, Kenneth clenched a fist, then remembered they might not be heard, but they were in full view of anyone on the other ramparts or in the castle yard. He forced himself to relax and smile. “Dinna think too long, mon ami. I ask only the help I once gave ye. Without me, yer head would adorn a French castle gate.”

  Phillippe gave him a tight smile. “Of that I am most aware.”

  “I dinna wish to suffer a similar fate, Phillippe. ’Tis time to make good on yer promise.”

  Voices sounded, down on the cobbled courtyard, but close by. Someone had come out from the cloister below them.

  Phillippe nodded and walked away.

  With a sigh, Kenneth turned back to regard the sea—and his prospects for freedom. Phillippe sounded sympathetic, but his request for a delay was telling. Kenneth knew him well enough to be certain the man would not lift a finger if doing so put himself in danger. Though Kenneth had saved Phillippe’s life in France, he’d also learned he could not trust him there. He was no more trustworthy here.

  He would have to find another way out.

  * * *

  Catherine nearly dropped the length of woolen fabric she held when Kenneth and two escorts walked into Abi’s stepfather’s place of business. They stood blinking at the transition from daylight to the shop’s relative dimness. None of them had noticed her yet, so she faded behind the curtain hiding the stairway to the upper level where Abi and her stepfather lived—and where Catherine was staying.

  Abi’s stepfather’s voice rang out in greeting. “What can I do for you this fine day?”

  She peeked through a narrow gap between the curtain panels as one of the priests cleared his throat and gestured at Kenneth, who remained still and silent.

  “This man needs suitable clothing.” The priest’s gaze raked Kenneth from head to foot, and his upper lip curled. “He looks too much the Highland ruffian.”

  Catherine stifled a gasp. Highland ruffian? They should see him in the Highlands. Her proud warrior. Almost her lover. Her thoughts drifted back to a day she’d spent teasing him on a walk to a nearby loch. When they reached it, he’d kicked off his boots and dropped his kilt. She’d never seen a man’s body so near—and so eager—for her. She’d been mesmerized, taking in the strength—and the length—of him. Then he’d dared her to strip and dive in the loch with him. His gaze had held her captive until the cry of a hunting eagle broke the spell his gaze and his will had created. She’d turned and run from his laughter. If he had chased her, he could have easily caught her and dropped her, fully clothed, into the loch. Instead, he’d respected her choice and her strength of will, even then, and let her go. That day, she’d sworn never to run from him again.

  Now, taller, stronger, more experienced in war, he would be much more formidable than those priests imagined. They had no idea who he was or what he could do—even to them—if sufficiently provoked.

  And why were priests speaking about him that way? What kind of escorts spoke so disrespectfully of their charge? The thought hit her so suddenly she had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping. Not his escort. His guards.

  “The bishop requires he be attired in a more civilized manner by tomorrow’s St. John’s Eve feast.”

  “That’s tomorrow? I’d forgotten. Why, that is not nearly enough time…”

  “If you cannot do it, the kirk will be forced to find another to complete this task, as well as to assume the rest of the kirk’s trade.”

  Catherine winced as Abi’s stepfather, his face in profile, blanched and cleared his throat. “Of course I can. With your permission, I must measure…”

  The priest gestured for Kenneth to do as the tailor directed.

  “I happen to have a set of garments nearly completed—with minor alterations, they might do very well,” Abi’s father muttered as he wielded a string across Kenneth’s shoulder, then down one arm. He muttered as he marked lengths on it with a wedge of chalk. “Ye will ruin my trade with an important gentleman, but what choice do I have?”

  “We’ll wait outside,” one of the priests finally said as the tailor knelt to measure Kenneth’s inseam. “You’re not likely to go anywhere,” he added with a smirk at Kenneth, “so long as he’s got his hands on ye there.”

  Abi bit her lip to stifle an exclamation at such rude talk from a priest. She could not believe what she was hearing, but it confirmed to her that Kenneth was a prisoner of some sort.

  Kenneth took it stoically, not responding to the jibe until the priests turned away. Then he shifted his weight.

  Was he deciding whether
to follow them and pay them back for their insolence?

  Apparently unaware of the mayhem Kenneth was capable of, Abi’s father frowned at the priests’ backs as they quit his shop. He then went back to attempting his measurements, fussing about the tape being too short for the length of Kenneth’s legs. Finally, he grimaced and stood. He tipped his head and said, “I’ll return in a moment.”

  Kenneth sighed and dropped his shoulders, his gaze lifting over his head to the beams supporting the floor above as he frowned and muttered something she could not hear well enough to understand.

  Catherine could just imagine he was asking heaven when this indignity would end. He’d be twice as mortified if he knew she watched. But she would risk his displeasure. If only Abi’s stepfather would finish and leave the shop, too, so she and Kenneth might have a chance to talk before the priests returned.

  * * *

  Kenneth’s tension eased when his escorts decided to wait outside. They thought he had nowhere to go? The curtain at the back wall led somewhere. Even if it was only a window, he could be through it quickly. Or upstairs and away across rooftops. The news he’d heard needed to reach Iain and Cat’s father, James Rose, before they got drawn into a fight no one could win. Instead, he was stuck here while the old tailor poked and prodded and muttered and made markings on a length of thin rope.

  “I’ll return in a moment,” the man said after a sigh.

  Once the tailor disappeared into a back room, Kenneth moved to the small front window to check on his escorts. He could hear them talking in low tones near the door, but they were out of his line of sight. No matter. As long as they remained out front, he would find a way out through the back. Since he couldn’t rely on Phillippe, this might be his best chance to escape. He strode to the curtain, but the tailor came back before his fingers could connect with the fabric, the man’s gaze on the breeks in his hands.

  “I fear these will not do. They are not long enough,” the man said, “but if ye would indulge me and put them on, I will have a better measure of the alterations I must make to a pair for ye.”

  Kenneth tightened his jaw, but forced a nod. He would not harm the man to get away. Not yet. Surely, he’d go after something else, giving Kenneth the opportunity he needed.

  As he pulled his shirt out of perfectly serviceable woolen trews he wore, he heard something rustle behind the curtain. He paused and studied the way the fabric shifted as a tingle of alertness spread through his belly. Someone was there and watching. But who?

  Soft footsteps ascended the hidden stairway, the footsteps light and quick. A woman watched. But who, indeed? It seemed the watcher suddenly suffered from shyness and didn’t want to see what he had to offer a lass. He grinned, stripped, and in case she turned back, he took his time donning the breeks the tailor handed him.

  Chapter 5

  Since he made many of the students’ attire as well as clothing for priests, Abi’s stepfather was regularly included at castle feasts as a guest of the bishop or someone else in the kirk hierarchy. Tonight, the St. John’s Eve celebration feast would be held in the castle’s great hall. It was the reason Kenneth and his guards, for guards they surely were, had arrived at the shop yesterday demanding new clothes by tonight. Hearing he would be at the feast had tempered some of Catherine’s disappointment in not being able to speak to Kenneth yesterday in the shop. She was overjoyed to be able to attend as a member of Abi’s family, and knew she had Abi to thank for that.

  She dressed with care in her best silky cream-colored léine, then slipped over it the deep blue brocade kirtle her sister Mary had insisted she pack. The brocaded fabric had a luster and sheen similar to the léine’s and was much fancier than her warm wool kirtles. “I feel overdressed,” she complained to Abi, fearing she’d be conspicuous, and attract more than Kenneth’s attention. “I don’t want to be glared at by priests as we were by the mercat cross the day we met Cam Sutherland.”

  “This is an important event for you,” her cousin insisted. “If you get a chance to talk to your man, or even to be seen by him, you must look your best.”

  Catherine couldn’t argue with her logic and liked hearing Kenneth called her man. She wanted to make a good impression, nay, a memorable impression on him. Good enough he would not turn away from her again. Good enough he would be willing to speak to her. To tell her why he’d spent the last two years away from her while she fended off her father’s attempts to wed her to other clans, other men.

  “It will be perfect for the bishop’s feast,” Abi insisted when Catherine failed to answer her earlier assertion. “You’ll see. Everyone will be dressed in their finest—even the clerics.”

  Abi fussed with her hair until she had arranged it to both their satisfactions, upswept and trailing down Catherine’s back. Then Abi draped a ribbon of pearls around her neck and knotted it before Catherine could open her mouth to object. “These belonged to my mother,” Abi told her. “So do try not to lose them. If the dress doesn’t get Kenneth’s attention, surely these will.”

  Catherine hugged Abi. “Thank ye. If I canna find a time to speak to him at the dinner, I will find another way.” Yesterday’s glimpses through the curtains had only whetted Catherine’s appetite and made her anger toward Kenneth fade into hunger again. She’d been about to whisk the curtain aside and speak to him when the tailor returned. She missed Kenneth. Tonight, she would change that.

  “There will be a bonfire on the beach below the town, after the feast, to celebrate the summer solstice,” Abi told her. “Perhaps he would be there.”

  Even if he attended with guards. The noise and confusion of the celebration might allow him to escape his escort for a few minutes and provide a perfect opportunity to speak to him. “I hope so.”

  The walk to the castle took only minutes, but a freshening breeze kept blowing back the hood of her cloak. Catherine was glad Abi had braided and secured her hair as she had, or it would have flown away by the time they reached the bishop’s hall.

  When they entered, the steward mentioned to Abi’s stepfather that the feast would start a few minutes late. “Some kirk business,” he announced with a touch of a Roman accent. “Please not to trouble yourselves on its behalf.” They were given to understand the bishop would join them as soon as it was concluded.

  While they waited, Catherine studied the grand space. Heavy arched beams supported the ceiling. Beautiful carved plasterwork decorated every corner of the room. Gorgeous stained glass accented high windows, the lower parts of which were open to the cool sea breeze. Tapestries depicting sacred scenes graced the walls.

  Townspeople were dressed as Abi had predicted—in silks and embellished with more lace and jewels than Catherine was used to seeing at home. Abi caught her gaze and Catherine nodded, acknowledging her cousin’s assurances.

  After another brief interlude, priests and their attendants finally started filtering in. Catherine held her breath, eager to see Kenneth and hoping he would be included in the feast. When he appeared, he came in quietly, wearing the breeks and tunic Abi’s father had altered in such a hurry, following a shorter, dark-haired priest she thought she recognized from the day near the cathedral. When Kenneth took up a position standing behind the man’s chair, Catherine looked away, appalled. He was being forced to act as a servant. Seeing him in a subservient role confirmed in her mind the man she’d seen carrying a bundle outside the cathedral, along with this same priest, had indeed been Kenneth. It hurt to see him so subdued. Two years ago, he’d been cheerful, even playful, with her. Full of optimism and good spirits. But the smile she missed had been absent each time she’d seen him here. Then again, what did he have to smile about? She didn’t understand why he was no longer at Iain Brodie’s side—his friend and laird—why he was here and why he was being treated as a prisoner, worse, as a servant. None of this made any sense.

  When the bishop arrived, he appeared as subdued as Kenneth, though his benediction was appropriate to a celebration feast. Perhaps the kirk busine
ss had been something unpleasant, now concluded.

  Despite the rich feast, Catherine could barely eat. Abi noticed and leaned over to her. “Is he here?”

  “Aye, he is.” Catherine nodded in Kenneth’s general direction and left it to Abi to decide which of the men on that side of the hall might be Kenneth.

  “Then what’s amiss? Look around you at all the fine fabrics and jewels. Did I not tell you your dress would be perfect for the feast? Oh, he has not noticed you?”

  Catherine didn’t want to start a long conversation in the midst of the town’s gentry about why Kenneth was serving a priest and not seated at table as an honored guest. She simply nodded and chewed on a bit of bread.

  “Then you must do something to make sure he sees you,” Abi encouraged, then went back to enjoying the repast.

  Abi’s stepfather, on her other side, was deep in conversation with someone Catherine didn’t know. He’d used the delay before the bishop arrived as an opportunity to speak to most of the gentlemen present. Catherine wondered if he knew them all or was simply taking advantage of the opportunity to make them aware of his business.

  Catherine watched all through the evening to see where Kenneth went. Which entry he used when the priest he served sent him to fetch something. Which hallway. He never met her gaze. Finally, he left yet again at a time when all of the other attendants remained by their patrons, and she saw her chance. She whispered to Abi that she would return soon, then made her way to an archway giving out to the same hall as the doorway Kenneth just used.

  He was there! Moving away, too far for her to call out his name without being heard by the serving staff, or even worse, the dignitaries in the great hall. Instead, she counted on him returning as he had twice already and positioned herself behind a column, in hopes of escaping the servants’ notice. The hallway was dimly lit, and she stepped into the shadowy depths against the wall.

  Kenneth paused at the far end and spoke briefly to someone she couldn’t see, then started back.