Kill or Be Kilt

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Kill or Be Kilt Page 7

by Victoria Roberts


  She stilled. “I’m not even dressed for court, and you’ve seen me wear this many times before.”

  He lowered his voice. “My apologies, but I gave Grace my word that I’d remember to tell ye that ye look bonny before court. She said that’s important for a lass to hear.”

  In the years she’d lived with Ruairi and Fagan under the same roof, the men had never taken notice of a new dress. The only time they’d ever said anything was when the cook made a new meal and placed it in front of them. Fagan’s explanation shouldn’t have surprised her.

  They took their seats as the serving woman approached the table with a tray in hand. Her hair was the same as last eve, pulled back in a tight bun, and a long apron covered her brown dress. She gave them all an easy smile.

  “Good morn. I hope you like what I’ve made for you.”

  “If the meal is as good as the stew last eve, then I think we’re in for a treat,” said Elizabeth.

  The woman’s face turned scarlet. “Thank you, m’lady.”

  “We’re going to be here for a while as we’re attending court. I’m Lady Elizabeth.” Elizabeth gestured around the table. “This is Laird Munro, Laird Sutherland, and Mister Murray, the captain of the Sutherland guard.”

  “I’m Mistress Betts. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  The woman lifted a trencher from the tray and placed it in front of Elizabeth. There was an egg, oatmeal, and biscuits, and flavorful smells wafted through the air. When Ian lifted his hands to assist the woman with the food, his knuckles were red and bloodied.

  “Laird Munro, whatever happened to your hand?” asked Elizabeth.

  Mistress Betts placed the remaining food in front of Ruairi and Fagan. “Please accept my apologies for last evening, but the innkeeper told those men they are no longer welcome here. They had to find another place to stay.”

  As Mistress Betts walked away, Ruairi became interested in his trencher, and Ian picked up a biscuit.

  “Laird Munro?” asked Elizabeth again.

  Fagan cleared his throat at the same time Ruairi spoke for Ian. “’Twas naught.”

  “Aye, he hit his hand on the wall,” added Fagan.

  Ian shook his head. Ruairi and Fagan’s reactions seemed to amuse him. “I hit my hand on the…what?”

  “Munro,” Ruairi warned.

  “Don’t listen to Ruairi and Fagan. My sisters and I rarely do. Tell me, Laird Munro. What happened to your hand?”

  “God’s teeth, lass. A man’s face came into contact with my fist. Is that what ye wanted to know?” Ian returned to his meal.

  “I can only assume you struck one of those men from last eve.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “They were clearly in the wrong, but I don’t think violence is ever an answer to anything. The innkeeper tossed them out, and they won’t be returning. Do you think that was truly necessary?”

  Ian scowled at Fagan and then glared at Ruairi. “I am giving ye fair warning to rein—”

  “Elizabeth, finish your meal. I will have the horses readied while ye dress,” said Ruairi.

  She ate the rest of her meal in silence and listened to the men talk about much of nothing. No matter how many times she’d heard the same conversations about tending to the fields and crops, she was never interested in the subject. She supposed the men felt the same way when she and her sisters discussed literature or the latest fashions. Although, fashion wasn’t a subject that often came up in the Highlands because there was only one type—plaid.

  Mistress Betts walked over to the table, and Elizabeth welcomed the interruption. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No, thank you.”

  While the men were still conversing among themselves, Mistress Betts stooped down next to Elizabeth. The woman lowered her voice. “I hope that I’m not being too forward, my lady, but I noticed you don’t have a lady’s maid with you. If you need my assistance with your clothes or hair for court, please let me know. I’ve done hair for all my sisters, and I don’t often get a chance to leave the kitchen. It would be my pleasure, and I’d be delighted to help you.”

  “How many sisters do you have?”

  “Five.”

  Ian coughed, and Elizabeth gave him a scolding look. She didn’t think the men were listening to their conversation. Even though she didn’t need a lady’s maid to assist her, the woman was eager to help. And Elizabeth understood the need to escape a mundane life and try something new.

  “I’d be delighted to have you as my lady’s maid while I’m here, Mistress Betts.”

  The woman straightened. “Thank you, Lady Elizabeth. You won’t be disappointed.”

  Elizabeth pushed back the chair and stood. “I’ll be ready within the hour.” She turned to Ian. “I do hope you manage to stay out of trouble until then, Laird Munro.”

  “Elizabeth,” Ruairi warned.

  Her scolding was quickly forgotten as soon as she entered her chamber and Mistress Betts closed the door. Elizabeth pulled out one of the gowns from her trunk and held it up to her frame. The blue dress with sky-colored reticella collar and cuffs was adorned with a scrolling, embroidered gold design inlaid into the gown, petticoat, and linen jacket.

  “I think that I’ll wear this one.”

  “A wise choice, my lady. The gown is beautiful.”

  Elizabeth removed her day dress and stood in her chemise. “Are you certain they won’t miss you in the kitchen?”

  “My assistant will handle my duties until I return. Don’t you worry about that. The boy will do as I tell him.” Mistress Betts placed the dress over Elizabeth’s head.

  “I don’t know that I’ll look as beautiful as my sister did in this gown, but I’ll try.” As soon as the dress slid over her shoulders and fell to the floor, Mistress Betts sighed.

  “I’d bet coin that you look as beautiful, if not more so, than your sister. It seems as though this gown was made for you.”

  “My sister and I are about the same height.”

  “Come in front of the looking glass. I’ll straighten your dress and fix your hair.” Elizabeth stood near the foot of the bed and gazed at her reflection. “May I ask why you didn’t travel with a lady’s maid?” As the woman bent to adjust Elizabeth’s skirts, Elizabeth wasn’t certain how to answer because she’d never really thought about the question.

  “The women in my family never had ladies’ maids. We fended for ourselves. My sisters and I have always done each other’s hair or helped the other dress. I’m not sure why. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.” She paused. “Now that I think on the matter, I don’t recall my father having a valet either. We’ve had the same servants in our employ for many, many years.”

  Mistress Betts stood and smoothed the material on Elizabeth’s shoulders.

  “I must apologize. This is my first time at court. I’m nervous, and I know that I’m babbling.”

  “There’s no reason for you to apologize. That’s part of the reason why I asked you the question, to get your mind thinking about something else.” Mistress Betts pulled over a chair. “Here you are. Why don’t you sit, and I’ll do your hair now?” As she ran a comb through Elizabeth’s tresses, she asked, “Could you please hand me those pins?”

  “Do you think we’ll be finished within the hour? I don’t want the men waiting for me. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “You’ll be done in a few moments. Remember that I have five sisters, and if we didn’t work fast, nothing would’ve ever been completed.”

  As the kind woman pinned up Elizabeth’s hair, Elizabeth fingered the material of her gown. She wondered if Ravenna felt the same way when she’d worn the dress. When the last pin was in place, Mistress Betts tapped Elizabeth’s shoulders.

  “There. You’re all finished.”

  Elizabeth stood and was amazed when she saw herself in th
e looking glass. She turned her head from side to side. “I must say that you’ve done wonderfully.”

  “Thank you, m’lady.”

  Elizabeth approached her trunk and pulled out the matching silk slippers. She placed them on her feet and then smoothed her skirts. “What do you think?”

  “I think you look beautiful.”

  “I’d better get below stairs before the men come looking for me or they find themselves in trouble again.” When Elizabeth opened the door, she realized she’d forgotten to secure her blade underneath her skirts, and she did give her word to her sisters that she would. She was about to make her excuses to Mistress Betts when a hand reached over and held the door partially closed.

  Mistress Betts cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t be too harsh toward Laird Munro.”

  Elizabeth was taken aback by the woman’s words. “What do you mean?”

  “If you don’t mind me speaking freely, those men got what they deserved.” When a soft gasp escaped Elizabeth, Mistress Betts added, “Laird Munro’s actions were just, my lady. He was defending your honor.”

  * * *

  Ian glanced down at his swollen knuckles and smiled. The whelp deserved a blackened eye and a sore face, and he was happy to have provided both. But he couldn’t believe Elizabeth’s words in the dining hall. She didn’t think violence was ever the answer? That was another example of her youth and inexperience in the world.

  After the men dressed for court, they waited at the bottom of the steps for Elizabeth. Ian pulled at his open-necked doublet. He still wore his kilt and plaid, but he tried to dress more formally. After all, he was a Highland laird. Although he was aware that he wasn’t fair of face, the king didn’t need to think all Highlanders were barbarians.

  A slow, steady smile of happiness crossed Ruairi’s face. “That’s the gown Ravenna wore the day I asked Mildmay for her hand in marriage.”

  Ian turned around, and his expression stilled as Elizabeth descended the stairs. From her long locks that were pinned on top of her bonny head, to her blue gown and matching silk slippers on her feet, everything was perfect. Hell, she was perfect. She looked like an angel sent from the heavens above. For a moment, he had to remind himself the lass was Elizabeth. He was even more unsettled when he caught himself giving her body a raking gaze.

  As she reached the last step, Ruairi grasped her hand. “I find myself at a loss for words.”

  “I hope you mean that in a favorable way, Laird Sutherland,” she said in a jesting manner.

  “Aye, I do.”

  “Thank you, Ruairi. That’s kind of you to say. And you look very handsome in your courtly attire.”

  Fagan smiled and inclined his head. “How I wish Grace could see ye.” He lowered his voice. “I think she’d want me to say this now. Ye look lovely, lass.”

  “Thank you. Is the carriage waiting?”

  Ruairi gestured to the door, but Ian reached out to stay her. His muscles tensed, and he cleared his throat. He thought he should say something and follow suit from his friends. “Ye’re a verra fine young lass, Lady Elizabeth.”

  Her glowing, youthful happiness abruptly faded, and she looked as though his words had insulted her. She cast her eyes downward. “Thank you, Laird Munro.” She brushed past him, walked out the door, and stepped into the coach.

  The men mounted their horses and followed the carriage at a snail’s pace through the narrow, crowded streets of London. Ian had barely noticed the merchants shouting and selling their wares along the busy streets because something in the back of his mind refused to be stilled. He had tried to be kind to Elizabeth back at the inn, but he couldn’t stay the feeling that she was cross with him.

  “Fagan, did ye hear my words to Lady Elizabeth?”

  A puzzled expression crossed his friend’s face. “When?”

  “Before we took our leave from the inn. After ye and Ruairi told her how bonny she was, I said she was a fine young lass. ’Twas if she was angry with me. What did I say?”

  Fagan laughed. “Ye’re asking me? I ne’er understand the lasses. I can nae comprehend why I fire my own wife’s ire at times, let alone her sisters’. But I will tell ye this… Having lived under the same roof as all the Walsingham sisters, more often than nae, they’re angry with us men most of the time. If ye think Elizabeth is cross with ye, offer her an apology.”

  “And what the hell do I apologize for?”

  Fagan shrugged. “I donna know. Mayhap being a man, being born. I’d start with one of those.”

  They arrived at Hampton Court Palace and rode through the courtyard to the second inner gatehouse. Even in the light of day, Ian didn’t favor the structure. A gaudy astronomical clock hung over the gatehouse, and he couldn’t imagine having such a monstrosity on Munro lands. From the elaborate detail of the brick chimneys to the blending of old and new styles, the palace looked as though it belonged in Rome.

  As the stable hands secured their mounts, Ruairi escorted Elizabeth from the carriage. Her head whipped from left to right, and the smile never left her face. She was clearly enamored with the sights before her, and Ian was disappointed that she couldn’t see Hampton Court Palace for what it truly was—a structure built to impress the gentry and flaunt the wealth of the Crown.

  “I donna need to ask what ye think, lass. I can see ye are pleased,” said Ruairi.

  “Yes, I am thrilled to finally be here, and I can’t wait to explore.”

  Ruairi tapped Elizabeth’s hand. “I’ll be happy to escort ye wherever ye’d like to go.”

  They entered the main hall, and Ian frowned unapprovingly at the audacity. The inside of the palace was more elaborate than the outside, the same as he’d remembered it. There were marble statues in every nook, and circular, decorated windows as far as the eye could see. Men and women flooded the hall dressed in their finery.

  “I’m going to find the king’s secretary with Fagan to put our names on the list for an audience. Will ye stay with Elizabeth?” asked Ruairi.

  “Aye,” Ian answered. He knew his friends hated the English court as much as he did. The sooner they met with the king, the faster they could be home.

  Elizabeth walked at a leisurely pace beside him. He studied her, but she paid him no heed. He stepped around men and women in the crowded hall and then escorted her by the elbow to an unoccupied wall.

  “Laird Munro, what are you doing?”

  “I’m offering ye an apology.”

  “For what, may I ask?”

  “Umm… I said something that offended ye at the inn.” He wasn’t about to ask what.

  “Yes, well, I wanted to talk to you too.” She rested her hand on his arm, and there was some unidentifiable emotion that crossed her face. “Mistress Betts told me that you defended my honor. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you thought that much about me to come to my defense.”

  He felt her thumb brush his arm, and she was watching him intently. A knot formed in Ian’s throat. It was important that Elizabeth thought highly of him. “’Tis naught I would nae have done for any other lass.”

  Once again an expression of hurt crossed her face, and he was to blame.

  Seven

  Elizabeth was brooding at the tennis court when a large shadow loomed overhead. She didn’t need to look to know that Laird Munro stood by her side. His feelings toward her were clear. She’d never be any different from all the other women. From now on, she resolved to let her trip to Hampton Court Palace restore her senses. No longer would she allow herself to think of the man as “Ian” because he’d never be anything more than the steely Highland laird that everyone knew. Although she was one of the few who had seen kindness within him, his walls were formidable, and they’d never be penetrable.

  “I believe the tennis court was built for King Henry VIII,” said Laird Munro.

  She kept her eyes forward. “It was a
ctually built for Cardinal Wolsey, but yes, King Henry loved to play. Many say tennis is the sport of kings.”

  “Swordplay is all the sport I need.” He chuckled, and she regarded him with impassive coldness.

  “And I believe that is all you need, Laird Munro.”

  He was staring at her, speechless, when Ruairi and Fagan approached them.

  “Our names are on the list. Now we wait,” said Ruairi.

  “Thinking about playing a wee bit of tennis, Munro?” asked Fagan.

  “Nae in my lifetime.”

  A loud commotion came from behind them as guards clamored into the palace with swords drawn. Men were shouting, but Elizabeth couldn’t make out their words. Ruairi moved in front of her, his arm keeping her in place. She tried to gaze around the mountain that was her brother-in-law.

  “What is happening?”

  “I donna know. We’ll stay here until we know what is afoot,” said Ruairi.

  Laird Munro placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I’ll find out and meet ye back here.”

  As he walked away, Elizabeth jerked Ruairi’s arm. “Do you think that’s wise? Perhaps Laird Munro should wait here with us as you said. Wouldn’t it be easier for us to take our leave if we had to? I don’t think he should go in there.”

  Ruairi turned around and rested his hands on her shoulders, as if he were comforting a child. “Munro could walk into the middle of a sword fight and come out unscathed. There is nay cause for ye to worry. Where did ye wander in the palace when we were seeking the king’s secretary?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Trying to distract me?”

  “Is it working?”

  “No.”

  “Do ye know that ye and Kat are becoming more like Ravenna and Grace every day?” asked Fagan.

  Satisfaction pursed her mouth. “Thank you.”

  Long, red hair and a massive frame walked toward them at a hastened pace. Laird Munro’s face was a mask of stone, and she couldn’t tell if he brought good news or bad. When he started to speak to her brothers-in-law in Gaelic, she became instantly irritated.

 

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