Kill or Be Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

  She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze, and responded sharply. “I have every right to speak my mind.” She abandoned all pretenses.

  “Ruairi is your laird. He told ye to stop, and I suggest ye heed his command.”

  “Heed his com—” She growled. “Ruairi is not my laird. Lest you forget, I am English. He is my brother-in-law.”

  “He is also your guardian and your chaperone,” Ian snapped. “Lest ye forget,” he replied in a mocking tone, “ye are still young enough for him to bend over his knee. Ye will show him respect.”

  “Get out!”

  “What?”

  Ian seemed puzzled by her fit of rage, especially when she pushed and shoved his massive frame step by step to the door. “Take your leave before I kick you out. I may be much smaller than you, Laird Munro, but Ravenna showed me how to hurt a man. For your own safety, get the hell out!”

  If the man was astonished by the curses that fell from her mouth, he didn’t say. And for once, Elizabeth really didn’t care.

  * * *

  Ian didn’t even reach the last step before Fagan opened his mouth. “What the hell did ye do? Elizabeth did nae even break her fast this morn. She’s waiting in the carriage.”

  “Where is Ruairi?”

  “Seeing to the horses.”

  “Remind me the next time I decide to take your advice about anything to flee the other way.”

  As Ian was about to step out of the inn, Fagan grabbed his arm to stay him. “What do ye mean? I knew the lass would be cross with ye when ye told her the truth, but I did nae think ye’d fire her ire as much as ye had.”

  “I did nae tell her.”

  “Have ye learned naught? Will there ever be a time when ye listen to what I tell ye?”

  “King Henry sent her a note last eve accompanied by a single rose, apologizing for the events that happened at court.”

  “Damn. I always forget about flowers. They say ’tis the way into a woman’s heart.”

  “Now ye tell me.” Ian shook his head. “In truth, I donna think if I’d given the lass flowers it would’ve mattered.”

  Ruairi stepped through the door. “What would’ve mattered?”

  “I am the reason Elizabeth is cross this morn,” said Ian. “If her willfulness is anything close to what ye experience with your own wives, then I pity the both of ye.”

  “Ye have nay idea,” said Fagan.

  “The lass insists that Mildmay’s death was nay accident because of the two other men. I told her to cease her questions and stop this madness.”

  “Let her be cross with ye,” said Ruairi. “She must mind her tongue at court.”

  “Aye, well, she would nae listen to reason and became even angrier when I told her that she must heed your command because ye’re her laird.” When his friends shuddered, Ian added, “But that was nae the worst part of what I said. I did nae realize the words came out of my mouth until ’twas too late.”

  Ruairi sighed.

  “I may have told her that she’s still young enough for ye to bend over your knee if she did nae listen. Sin e. Sin agad e.” That’s it. There you have it.

  “Dé thubhairt sibh?” asked Fagan. What did you say?

  He didn’t think Fagan wanted the answer repeated. In short, Ian knew his words were wrong the first time he’d said them. God help him. He certainly had a way of creating a fine mess.

  Ruairi patted him on the back. “I’m sorry, Munro, but ye’re on your own for this one.”

  Thirteen

  Elizabeth didn’t attempt to steal a glance at Laird Munro when she walked into the hall of Hampton Court Palace. If she had, she would have throttled him where he stood. Her brother-in-law would’ve never turned her over his knee, as if Ravenna would have ever permitted such a thing. What made matters worse was the fact that Ian only said the words to goad her into ceasing her questions about Uncle Walter.

  “Pardon us.” Two women around the same age as Elizabeth wore matching blue gowns. Blond curls framed their identical oval faces, and they had perfect white, straight teeth. One girl nudged the other in the arm. “Tell her we’re twins.”

  “I think she can see that for herself, Gillian.” The woman smiled at Elizabeth. “I’m Lady Margery Tullibardine, and this is my sister Lady Gillian.”

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Lady Elizabeth Wal—”

  “Yes, we know.” One of the twins, perhaps Lady Margery, gestured to Ian, Fagan, and Ruairi. “We heard you were being escorted around court by Highlanders. We didn’t believe the rumors to be true—until now.”

  “If you don’t mind us asking, Lady Elizabeth, why are those men accompanying you?” asked the other sister.

  “I’m afraid the tale is not that exciting. Two are my brothers-in-law.”

  “We were just going to take a walk in the garden. Would you care to join us? We’d love to hear all about it.”

  “Yes, I’d be delighted. Please give me but a moment.”

  Elizabeth approached Ruairi, smiled at Fagan, and paid no heed to Ian. “I’m going to take a walk in the garden with the Tullibardine sisters. I’ll meet you here in an hour.”

  Ruairi gazed at the sisters in awe. “I have nae been in my cups, but I’m seeing double.”

  She laughed. “They’re twins.”

  “Apparently. All right, lass. Donna wander anywhere else, especially alone.”

  “I won’t.”

  Elizabeth ambled along the garden paths with the twins flanking her on each side. The sky had turned gray, and she hoped the weather was not going to turn for the worst. Then again, she was having a difficult time removing the dark cloud that hung over her head and followed her everywhere. Of course, the shadowy mass could’ve been Laird Munro. With that thought, she gazed around the garden in the hope she’d see Mister Condell.

  “We’ve never seen you before. Is this your first time at court, Lady Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, Lady Ma…er, I’m not sure with whom I’m speaking.”

  “I’m Lady Margery. I’ll tell you a little secret.” She stopped and smiled. “You can tell us apart because I have a small scar here on my chin. Can you see it?”

  Elizabeth leaned closer. “Yes.”

  “One of my father’s dogs bit me in the face when I was a child, and the wound left a mark.”

  They continued to walk along the edge of the garden. “I’m sorry that happened to you. My sister was attacked several years ago,” said Elizabeth. “The animal left quite the nasty scar on her leg, and now she is deathly afraid of…dogs.” When she realized “wolves” almost escaped her lips, she bit her tongue. She wasn’t in the mood to explain Angus.

  “Oh, I’m not afraid of them. What happened to me was a careless accident. I was young, and our dog had puppies. When I tripped over my own two feet, their mother thought I was a threat and bit me. It was entirely my fault.”

  “I wish you could talk some sense into my sister. She thinks all dogs are out to cause her harm,” said Elizabeth.

  “Your sister, Lady Ravenna?” asked Gillian.

  Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “We’d heard Father mention your sister in passing when he was talking about your chaperones. Was she the one betrothed to Lord Casterbrook?”

  Elizabeth became uneasy under the twins’ scrutiny. “Umm…no. That was my sister, Lady Grace.”

  Margery placed her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Is it true then? Did Lord Mildmay kill Lady Grace’s betrothed?”

  Elizabeth paled.

  * * *

  Fagan sat on a bench in the garden. “Ye could always try flowers.”

  “We’ve been down this path before. Condell is one step ahead of me,” said Ian.

  “Then ye need to figure out what to do before Condell does it, and Elizabeth�
�s heart is gone forever. Let’s think about what the lass favors.” Fagan’s expression stilled. “We know she likes her books, and she shows an interest in the history of King Henry.”

  When Ian let out a defeated sigh, Fagan offered a look of apology a little too late. “Not your Condell playing King Henry, of course.” When Fagan saw the look on Ian’s face, he added, “Donna forget that Condell is an actor used to playing a part, but ye have him at a clear advantage. Ye’ve known Elizabeth for years, and he’s only talked with her—or been trying to woo her—for a few days. If I recall correctly, the lass said she loved ye, not Condell.”

  “Elizabeth asked Ruairi if he’d escort her to the theatre to see Henry VIII this afternoon. What if I escorted her?”

  Fagan stood. “Now ye’re thinking, not to mention that Ruairi would thank ye for putting him out of his misery of attending the play.” He slapped Ian in the chest and gestured over his shoulder. “I’m taking my leave. Now’s your chance to make amends—again. Good luck, Munro.”

  Ian turned as Elizabeth approached. “Did ye enjoy your walk?”

  “Oh, the experience was quite enlightening.”

  “There is an archery tournament taking place within the hour on the south side of the gardens. Would ye like me to escort ye? I donna mind.”

  “And if I say no, will Ruairi turn me over his knee and scold me like a willful child?” When she added a smile of defiance, he thought this might be an opportunity for a bit of the truth.

  He closed the distance between them. Lightly, he fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek, and her breath quickened. When his gaze met hers, his heart turned over in response, and he couldn’t find the strength to pull away. “Please accept my apologies for my careless words. The last I want in this world is to see ye hurt, Elizabeth. I know the events at court have unsettled ye, and in truth, I donna know if there was more to your uncle’s death or nae. But I do know that ye can nae have your questions fall upon the wrong ears.”

  When she started to speak, he held up his hand and added, “I want to make things right between us. Let me start by being your escort later this afternoon to the theatre, if ye’ll have me.”

  She stared, wordlessly.

  “Please say something, lass. I can nae read your thoughts.” Life would be so much simpler if he could.

  “I’m still angry with you, but your apology is accepted. I’d love to attend the theatre. But I do have questions about my uncle that I want answers to. Do you understand?” Her question was more of a demand.

  “Aye, but now is nae the time.”

  She nodded, giving him a brief moment of compliance.

  Ruairi and Fagan approached them with Lairds Ross, Fraser, and MacKay. When all the lairds were smiling, Ian thought for a moment that one had finally been granted his audience with King James. When he gave the Fraser a questioning gaze, the man returned a knowing smile.

  “Did ye honestly think it would be that simple, Munro?”

  “Damn.” There were only two occasions a Scot would ever smile at court, the first of course, being told he could take his leave from this dreaded nightmare. And that wasn’t the reason for the Fraser’s merriment.

  “We’re off to watch the English look like fools in the archery tournament.”

  And there was the second cause.

  Fire lit Elizabeth’s eyes as she boldly met the Fraser’s gaze. “Laird Fraser, I—”

  “My apologies, Sutherland. I keep forgetting your sister-in-law and your wife are English.”

  The lairds stepped around Elizabeth, and Fagan patted her on the shoulder in a comforting gesture as he passed. Her expression clouded with anger, and her eyes met Ian’s. Instinctively, he raised his hands, giving up in battle before one had even begun.

  “Ye can nae be cross with me. I did nae say anything.”

  “No. You didn’t, and there lies one of the problems,” she responded sharply. “Let’s go on then. I’m looking forward to watching my countrymen play themselves as fools for your enjoyment.”

  Ian was tired of being the object of Elizabeth’s wrath and thought it best to keep his mouth shut for his own good. They made their way to the open field at the south end of the gardens. The skies were gray, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

  “I hope the storm passes,” said Elizabeth.

  He prayed that was true because he couldn’t imagine being cooped up within the castle walls with the English…and a murderer. He’d have to watch his back at every turn. At least out in the open he could see any threat coming upon him.

  The men waited while the targets were placed. A crowd started to gather, including the twins that Elizabeth had met earlier. A man stepped up to shoot his first round in the archery contest, already wiping the sweat from his brow. Lifting his bow, he visibly trembled, studying the target. In fact, he examined it so long that Ian could have easily released an arrow several times before the man even took the shot. Finally, Ian watched as the arrow whizzed through the air, missing the goal by several feet.

  The next contender patted the man on the back and then stepped forward. He raised the bow, studying the target briefly, and then released the arrow. He had an admirable aim, hitting the center mark with astounding accuracy.

  As the crowd cheered, Elizabeth left Ian’s side and stood next to the twins. He was glad to see she found other women around her age to talk with at court. Even though he understood why Mildmay and Ravenna had sheltered the Walsingham sisters from the aristocracy, being from a family of spies and all, he recognized Elizabeth’s need to feel she belonged among her peers. Perhaps her time at court with the English wouldn’t be as mundane as his. And he had to admit that he’d grown rather fond of seeing a smile on her face.

  The men and women around him fell silent, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. His gaze roved and lazily appraised her. Every time he saw her, spent time with her, she stoked a gently growing fire. Although he had to fight his own personal battle of restraint, he hungered from the memory of his mouth on hers. The lass continued to stir something inside him that he’d never thought possible.

  The tournament entranced her, and he was taken aback that she’d actually shown an interest in the sport. At least shooting arrows was more exciting than tennis. He’d give her that.

  When the crowd cheered, Ian glanced at the target. The arrow was dead center. His eyes searched for the archer. Ian spotted him with bow in hand…standing before Elizabeth.

  Condell.

  * * *

  “That was a fabulous shot, Mister Condell,” said Elizabeth. “I didn’t know you could shoot.”

  His eyes twinkled with amusement. “There are many things that I do very well, Lady Elizabeth.”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, Mister Condell, pray allow me to introduce to you Lady Margery Tullibardine and her sister, Lady Gillian.”

  “Do my eyes dare deceive me?”

  Lady Margery laughed. “I’m afraid not, Mister Condell. Have we met before? I must admit you do look vaguely familiar.”

  “Now I recognize you,” said Lady Gillian. “You’re the actor who is playing King Henry at the Globe Theatre, are you not?”

  He placed his hand over his heart and gave Lady Gillian a slight bow. “That I am, my lady.”

  “We saw the play last week while Father stayed in London, and your performance was exhilarating,” said Lady Margery. “I don’t know how you managed to remember all your lines, and you spoke in an English accent very well.”

  Mister Condell smiled from ear to ear. “I am humbled by your generous words, my lady. Perhaps you will be successful in talking Lady Elizabeth into coming to see me, and the troop, perform. There are many talented actors among us.”

  “Lady Margery and Lady Gillian do not need to talk me into anything. I’ll be there for your performance later this afternoon.”

 
; He smiled with an air of pleasure. “I’m glad to hear it. You must be my honored guest. I will hold a chair for you in the front row.”

  “That would be lovely, Mister Condell, but could you please hold two?”

  “Oh, yes. I had almost forgotten about your chaperones.” He glanced at the twins. “If you ladies will please excuse me, it is almost time for my turn.”

  “Good luck, Mister Condell,” said the sisters at the same time.

  He gave a slight bow and then turned to Elizabeth. “Lady Elizabeth, until this afternoon.”

  When he spoke in an English accent, the twins laughed in response. The moment Mister Condell walked away, Lady Margery poked Elizabeth in the arm. “It’s clear the man has taken a fancy to you.”

  “He’s very handsome,” added Lady Gillian.

  “Mister Condell is only being kind.” She wouldn’t dare mention the message or the gift of the rose that he’d sent her last night.

  “Do you favor him? I only ask because my heart flutters at the sight of him,” said Lady Gillian.

  “Gillian, how could you ask Lady Elizabeth about such a private matter?” asked Lady Margery in a scolding tone.

  Elizabeth almost chuckled. The sisters had no trouble inquiring if Uncle Walter had killed Daniel, but Lady Margery thought it was improper to ask about Elizabeth’s feelings toward Mister Condell. She wondered if she’d ever understand the logic of others.

  Her attention was drawn back to Mister Condell as he was about to take another attempt at the target. The man was boldly confident, and she liked that. He moved into position and adjusted the arrow. Lifting the bow, he aimed, releasing his shot.

  Dead center.

  The crowd cheered, and so did Elizabeth. When Mister Condell’s eyes met hers, her expression brightened, and they shared a smile. She was proud of him for doing well.

  She glanced over her shoulder, and Ian stood tall, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His vexation was evident. They stared at each other, and it wasn’t long before she detected bitterness, hurt—perhaps a little of both. Without warning, he stormed off, and his broad back thundered from the tournament. The man was confusing in every way.