Return of the Rogue

by Donna Fletcher

“That’s not a good place to go,” Artair added.

  “The spot of woods near the stable is perfect for what you need,” Cavan said, sounding as if he commanded it.

  Addie took hold of Honora’s arm and turned a broad smile on all three sons. “You wouldn’t be thinking of telling me what I can do and can’t do, now would you?”

  Lachlan and Artair looked directly at Cavan.

  “Cowards,” he muttered beneath his breath while glaring at them.

  “Did you say something, Cavan?” Addie asked.

  Cavan shook his head, though it wasn’t at his mother. He was shaking it at himself, for he knew he was just as much a coward as his brothers. He couldn’t forbid his mother from doing what she wished; besides, it wouldn’t work. She’d do what she wanted anyway.

  “Honora knows the woods well. I’m sure you both will be fine,” he said with a sense of surrender.

  He was glad when his wife kissed his cheek, for he took the moment to whisper in her ear, “A couple of hours, no more, or then I search for you.”

  She smiled and pressed her cheek to his to whisper in his ear, “I wouldn’t do that. The magic of the woods may swallow you whole.”

  He stared after her and his mother as they chattered while grabbing cloaks off the pegs near the door and rushing out.

  “Mother always gets her way,” Artair said with a respectful smile.

  “It seems that Honora does as well,” Lachlan teased with a wide grin.

  “Wait. Just both of you wait,” Cavan said confidently. “Wait until your wives do the same to you.”

  “Not likely,” Lachlan boasted.

  “I agree,” Artair said. “My wife will not challenge my commands, though I will be reasonable.”

  “There’s something you two should have learned by now,” Cavan said tersely. “There’s no reasoning with women, ever, never. Not a single solitary woman can you reason with. It’s impossible.”

  “You just don’t know how,” Lachlan said.

  Cavan shook his head.

  “Lachlan’s right,” Artair said. “You just don’t know how. Women can be reasonable creatures.”

  “Pliable, is more like it,” Lachlan beamed. “You just have to know how to get them to bend, be flexible, and eventually surrender.”

  Cavan broke out into a fit of laughter. “Are you two in for a surprise. No, a shock is more like it.”

  “We’ll see,” Artair said confidently.

  “We certainly will,” Cavan said, and raised his tankard of ale, silently toasting his brothers’ foolishness.

  Honora realized her stepfather was following her and Addie as soon as they left the keep. Many wouldn’t have noticed, but think he was strolling about, waving to those he knew. But Honora knew better. He was up to something, and she didn’t like the disturbing feeling that gnawed at the pit of her stomach.

  It wasn’t until they reached the edge of the village that Calum made himself known. Honora was shocked to see that he held a bouquet of flowers. It looked as if he’d made an effort in seeing to his appearance, his garments fitting him well, with only a few stains here and there and a button missing from his vest.

  “For you,” Calum said, handing the flowers to Addie with a slight bow. “These beautiful flowers pale next to your beauty.”

  Honora wanted to choke. Her stepfather couldn’t be serious. Did he intend to woo her mother-in-law? The idea was outrageous, and Addie was simply too intelligent a woman to be swayed by Calum.

  “Thank you,” Addie said. “It is very thoughtful of you.”

  Honora was struck silent. Addie actually smiled softly and sniffed the few wildflowers smothered by green foliage, only the most hardy having survived the start of winter. Honora was horrified that Addie would even consider the prospect of accepting the token gift. After all, it would announce to everyone that she was open to a courtship. And it was just like Calum to do it publicly, where all could see his respectful and honest intentions.

  Addie inspected the flowers and gave them another sniff. “In all the years Tavish and I were married, he could still surprise me with flowers. I never knew when to expect them, and it made the flowers all the more precious to me.”

  Calum stuck out his chest proudly, and Honora grew annoyed seeing that several villagers were watching the exchange, knowing that gossiping tongues would soon be busy.

  Addie sighed and shoved the bouquet back at Calum. “I can’t accept these, nor do I want to. The only man who will ever give me flowers is my beloved husband, Tavish. I will accept none from any other man. Do I make myself clear, Calum?”

  Honora wanted to hug Addie tightly and whoop with delight. Instead she remained by Addie’s side with a beaming smile.

  She wasn’t surprised to see her stepfather’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment. He deserved the discomfort for even considering that Addie would be interested in a man so soon after her husband’s passing. But true to her stepfather’s selfish nature, he continued to try.

  “Perhaps in time,” Calum said.

  “No!” Addie said curtly. “No time will heal my broken heart. Tavish was the love of my life and there will be no other. Do not dishonor me or disgrace yourself by attempting another overture, for next time I will not be polite.”

  Addie turned, and Honora did the same though her steps were abruptly halted when her arm was grabbed.

  She knew whose hand was on her, and turned on Calum with a fury. “Take your hand off me.”

  “How dare—”

  “No,” she shouted. “How dare you touch me.”

  “Quiet,” he warned harshly. “Or you will pay for your insolence.”

  Addie had stopped and turned to stare at them, though she did not attempt to intervene. She obviously felt Honora could handle Calum herself, and that made Honora feel proud.

  “Get your hand off me, Calum, and I won’t warn you again,” she said firmly.

  “I am your father—”

  She yanked her arm free, though it hurt since his fingers had a firm bite on her flesh. But it also felt good, as if she were freeing more than her arm, but freeing herself of him, something she had wanted to do for so very long. “You are not my father and never have been.”

  “You will obey me—”

  “I will not,” she said. “Not now, not ever.”

  Calum rushed toward her, and she braced her hand on the dirk in the sheath at her waist. He halted so fast that he almost toppled over.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he choked.

  “Are you so sure?” she asked calmly.

  He turned a startling red. “You’ll be sorry.”

  “I am sorry.”

  He sneered confidently.

  “Sorry that I didn’t stand up to you sooner. Don’t ever cross my path again—”

  “Only your husband can banish me from the clan,” he said furiously.

  “Is that what you wish me to do, wife? Have him banished?”

  Honora smiled at her husband, having watched him approach slowly, allowing her to have her say while letting her know that he was there to protect her. Calum, however, turned with a start.

  “It is your choice,” Cavan said, walking past Calum and taking a stance beside his wife.

  “Banishment is not necessary, but I don’t care if I ever lay eyes on him again,” Honora said, glaring at Calum.

  “You speak bravely with your husband by your side,” Calum accused, then looked as if he bit his tongue, but too late.

  Cavan rubbed his chin. “I think you should earn your keep here, Calum.” He turned to Honora. “Use him as target practice for your bow lessons.”

  Honora contained her chuckle. “That would not be fair. He is so large that I would not miss hitting him.”

  Calum looked ready to burst, he grew so red, and she suddenly grew cautious. He was not one to be taken lightly. He always found a way to retaliate against those he felt deserved his wrath, which she knew, having been on the receiving end most of her life. Had she trul
y expected him not to make her pay for her defiance?

  “Let him be,” Honora said abruptly, old memories disturbing her.

  Cavan nodded. “Your choice.” He looked to Calum. “Stay away from my wife and my mother.”

  “As you wish,” Calum said, and bowed respectfully, though his angry eyes settled on Honora as he did.

  She felt them bore slowly into her like dagger points finding the flesh, digging deeper and little by little. Calum would make her pay, she had no doubt, and she would have to make her final stand and once and for all be free of him.

  Chapter 31

  Cavan wrapped himself around his sleeping wife; though a fire roared in the hearth, the room still held the chill of winter. He smiled, recalling how only a couple of hours ago they had heated the bedchamber considerably with their fierce lovemaking. After a heated debate, they tore at each other’s clothes, to tangle amidst the bedding until they finally succumbed to their passion with a series of crazed climaxes.

  His body would have sprung to life at the recalled memory if he hadn’t been so satisfied by their joining. Now, however, he preferred to snuggle against her and simply enjoy their closeness.

  The last few weeks had proved trying, with everyone adjusting to his new role, including him. He would enter his father’s solar, his mind filled with pending issues, and for a moment expect his father to be there with the answers, or at least guidance. Once again he’d be overwhelmed with the loss and he’d sit, not in his father’s chair behind his desk, but in the chair he used to take when talking with Tavish in confidence.

  He was still trying to accept that his father was no longer there, that he, Cavan Sinclare, was now laird of the clan. And while plagued with that daily thought, he was also determined to solve his father’s murder. He owed it to his father and the clan so that all rumors could finally be laid to rest and a sense of safety and peace might once again return to the clan.

  Honora continued to be a great help to him in his search for the killer. She had gotten to know many of the villagers and quickly discarded most as the potential foe. Her stepfather had even been considered a possible suspect, but was discarded since he had gotten what he wanted with his stepdaughter’s marriage to Cavan. The more digging they did, the shorter the list of suspects became. By now they’d begun to wonder if it could have been someone passing by, a merchant who stopped to sell his wares, a weary traveler looking for shelter, or a man purposely sent to kill his father. But for what reason?

  He and Honora discussed the possibilities endlessly, as did he and his brothers. None of them would rest until the man was found and punished for his crime. But as the weeks passed, it seemed less likely that they would ever find the culprit.

  The one constant that continued to plague him and Honora was that in all likelihood it appeared that Tavish either had known his killer or not felt threatened by the person. His father had been too wise a warrior not to be able to defend himself, even in a surprise attack, which meant that Tavish hadn’t felt himself in danger. Two conflicting thoughts that they couldn’t seem to join, but no doubt would prove the link in solving the murder.

  Honora stirred, disturbed. Cavan soothed her with a caressing hand over her naked flesh, and she settled soon enough. They had grown even closer since his father’s death, and perhaps that was due to his need for her and her unconditional love. It amazed him that she placed no boundaries on her love for him.

  She loved him plain and simple. It didn’t matter if he brooded or smiled, complained or rejoiced, her love was constant. She understood him, and oddly enough, he understood her. He knew there were times she preferred to walk the moors alone or venture in the woods. He knew she rarely had a bad word to say about anyone, and listened to complaints without complaining. She made time for Addie whenever she needed it, and continued to practice with her bow even though he had less time to teach her how to defend herself. And she always, always, responded to him when he touched her intimately.

  He was completely and madly in love with his wife, and yet still found it difficult to tell her.

  Why?

  He wished he knew. It made no sense to him. The words should spill easily from his lips because she was so easy to love. But every time he tried to tell her, the words stuck in his throat. They came easily while she slept and could not hear him, but otherwise they remained locked away, and he hadn’t been able to find the key to unlock them.

  She stirred again and turned to wrap herself around him, snuggling against him, her full breasts pressed hard against his chest. She had fast gotten used to and comfortable with being naked in front of him, and they slept that way every night.

  Naked and wrapped around each other.

  He had been lucky, so very lucky, to have found himself wed to her. When Honora confided that his father had thought them a good match from the very first time Calum approached Tavish, he was surprised. But then, his father had been a wise leader and knew his son well. His father had seen in Honora what he hadn’t been able to see. He’d seen the shining gem among the stones. And he blessed his father every day for being the one who had brought them together.

  Cavan yawned and settled himself against her, ready for sleep—ready to be a good husband, ready to lead the clan, ready to finally love.

  Honora had the next couple of hours to herself. Her husband was busy meeting with his brothers in the solar. Addie was busy in the kitchen with the cook, baking a special treat for her sons, and though she’d asked Honora if she wished to help, Honora understood that Addie was better left alone to do for her sons. This was a mother’s treat, something she did, had been doing, for years for them, and Honora had no intention of interfering. Which actually worked out well since Champion was handed over to her for safe keeping. If he had remained in the kitchen, he would have only gotten into trouble and eaten whatever he could have reached.

  Instead, she took Champion, intending to walk around the village and visit with people, to see if there was any gossip she could pick up. The dog, however, had other plans, and headed for the stable and his brothers and sisters.

  Honora followed, knowing there were only two out of the five in the litter left, a few villagers staking claim to the others. She felt that Artair and Lachlan should claim the last two, both females and both beautiful animals. Where Champion was all black, the one female was black except for her paws, which were brown and gave her a regal appearance, and while she appeared docile, she could hold her own. She was a perfect companion for Artair. The other female was a mixture of brown and black and had a distinct personality. She followed no commands, doing exactly as she pleased, a fitting partner for Lachlan.

  Honora followed Champion behind the stable, where the two females were tossing a bone between them. Champion joined in. She stood watching, realizing this was the place where Tavish had died.

  She had been here before, with Cavan and his brothers, and all of them agreed that anyone could have easily hid in the woods that bordered the area and ambushed Tavish. But that wouldn’t have explained what Tavish was doing behind the stable. What had brought him there? Had he been looking for something? Or had someone called to him?

  She had asked herself over and over who would want to hurt the laird of Clan Sinclare. There were none in the village who had a bad word to say about him. The clan members were content, well looked after, well provided for, well protected. There wasn’t one reason for anyone among them to harm the laird.

  It would stand to reason, then, that it had been someone outside the clan. Of course, like any clan leader, Tavish had enemies, though none close enough to do him harm, unless someone was sent to purposely eliminate him.

  But there were guards posted around the land, not only along the borders but throughout, for that specific reason—to spot any intruder—which was why the village always knew that a stranger approached before he even reached the outskirts of the village.

  How, then, could Tavish have been killed by a stranger? He had to have known his assai
lant.

  Champion bounded over to Honora, and she noticed that he was chewing on something. Spying the discarded bone and the other two dogs stretched out in a sunny patch, she worried that he’d found something that could hurt him or make him ill.

  “Drop it,” she ordered sternly, her hand under his mouth.

  He looked reluctant.

  “Now!” she commanded, and he obeyed.

  She grimaced at the small object covered with slime and took a closer look. It was a bit chewed but she could see that it was a button, or at least had been. There was something familiar about it. She washed it off in the rain barrel by the side of the stable and took a better look.

  It was familiar but she couldn’t recall where she’d seen it. Then she realized what she held. The button could very well belong to the man who killed Tavish, ripped off in the scuffle, possibly as Tavish attempted to defend himself before he dropped to his death from the knife wound.

  “Good boy,” she said, praising Champion and patting his head. “You found a clue, possibly the only clue.”

  She hurried to the keep, Champion fast on her heels, and when she’d almost reached the steps, stopped dead. She realized where she had seen the button.

  It belonged to Calum.

  Her skin turned to ice and all color drained from her face.

  Her stepfather?

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t shake her head at the ridiculous thought, couldn’t believe that he was capable of such a horrendous act. And why? What possible reason could he have to do Tavish harm? He had gotten what he wanted, his daughter married to the next laird of Clan Sinclare.

  Why?

  Why had he insisted that she wed the next laird, heir to Clan Sinclare? He had insisted that the marriage documents be drawn up specifying as much, and he’d argued vehemently when Cavan returned on her wedding day that she had not wed Artair, but Cavan, since he was the head of the clan.

  Had there been a plan behind it?

  If so, that would make her responsible for Tavish’s death.

  She placed a hand to her chest, and though she still could not move, it felt as if she were about to collapse. This couldn’t be possible. Her stepfather couldn’t have killed Tavish.