Highlander Redeemed (Guardians of the Targe Book 3)

by Laurin Wittig

  “I will not let it happen again,” she said, but she wasn’t looking at him and there was none of the heat he expected in her voice. “It cannot happen again. No kissing, no . . . touching.” She cut her gaze to him and he could see the pink in her cheeks, but he did not ken if the color was because she was embarrassed by what had transpired here or because she was angry about it. She let her hand rest on the hilt of her dagger, the dagger that had killed her mum and Myles, the dagger that she had just used to remind herself of her goal. “I cannot be distracted from my vow, Duncan. I’ll not let you nor any other lad distract me.”

  DUNCAN SAT ACROSS the fire from Scotia that evening after the meal, hoping the crackling flames and quiet conversation would distract him from the tension that still rode his body and his mind. But it was useless. He could think of nothing else, and every time he let himself be drawn back to the events of the afternoon, followed by Scotia’s silent return to the caves with him, he wanted to groan or grab her and pull her into the forest with him. Clearly he had not been thinking when he let himself, when he let them, get carried away like that, and now he was paying the price. Somehow she had turned the tables on him. He was the one distracted by desire, while she remained steadfastly focused on her goal.

  “If you keep staring at her like that, lad,” Nicholas said, “Kenneth is likely to pluck out your eyeballs.”

  Duncan closed his eyes and rubbed the spot between his brows. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Aye.” Nicholas sat next to him. “But from what Rowan has told me, and from what I have seen from the moment I met you, you have always had a soft spot for the stubborn, selfish—”

  “She is not—”

  Nicholas laughed quietly. “Not anymore, ’tis true. It seems she has grown up at last, and while circumstances of late pushed her there, you appear to have something to do with her transformation, too.”

  “Transformation?” Was their indiscretion that apparent?

  “You are not blind—yet—and neither am I. You have been training her with weapons.” Duncan gave silent thanks, then realized what Nicholas had said. “If I had not seen it myself,” Nicholas continued, “I would know from the way she carries herself.”

  “Seen it?”

  “You forget that my first calling was as a master spy. Did you not think I would keep an eye upon you and your charge when she has caused so much trouble?”

  Duncan sighed. “’Tis a measure of how preoccupied I have been that I did not consider that.”

  Nicholas chuckled. “She is a distracting woman. But as I said, even if I had not seen her training myself, I would know. No longer does she wander about, swaying her hips, and looking for mischief as she did when first I saw her trysting with Conall.” An unwanted flash of anger had Duncan scanning the gathering for the blond warrior. “She moves differently than she did even a tenday ago. Now she strides about like a warrior, her eyes scanning for trouble, her reactions swift and often ending in a fighting posture. And I daresay she is getting quite good with her weapons, given the number of bruises and cuts I have seen on you in the last few days.”

  Duncan looked down at his nicked hand, and rolled the shoulder she had whacked with her blade just that afternoon, knowing there would be a fine bruise in evidence by morning.

  “She does not want it known until she is ready to join the warriors, and aye, she is getting very, very good with her sword and shield.” He could not help the pride that he was sure Nicholas could hear his voice, nor could he keep from glancing across the fire at Scotia, catching her watching him. Flustered, they both looked away.

  “Does she expect to fight with the warriors?” Nicholas’s tone was flat, as if he did not want Duncan to know how he felt about that possibility.

  “She does, and I have promised her she will when the time comes.”

  “That will not sit well with her sister and my wife,” Nicholas said.

  “I do not think Scotia cares about that.”

  “I am sure she does not. Have you any understanding of this knowing Rowan told me about?”

  Duncan was grateful for the turn in the conversation. He explained the testing he continued to do with Scotia, and what they had discovered about why and when she might know something and why and when she did not.

  “We must determine how best to use this gift of hers in our fight against the English,” Nicholas said, tossing a pebble into the fire. “It might just give us the advantage we need. Do you ken if proximity has aught to do with how or when she receives a knowing?”

  Duncan had to think back to all the tests he had given Scotia in the last few days. “She had the knowing about Sherwood, so that was from afar. She kent the allies were arriving in this glen before the guards at the pass blew the horn, but not long before. She kent where her sword was.” He looked at Nicholas, knowing this next bit of news would not sit well with the chief. “We found it just near the Story Stone, though she did not ken it was there until we were already at the meadow. Other than that,” he continued, “everything we have worked on has been within the confines of the glen.”

  “Do you think she is ready to venture further afield with her training?” Nicholas asked.

  “I think she is chafing at the bit to venture further afield.”

  Nicholas laughed as he looked across the cook circle at Scotia, then back to Duncan. “Always, with that one, aye?”

  “Always,” Duncan agreed.

  “I have just the task for the two of you, but Rowan will insist you take more warriors with you to keep Scotia safe.”

  “If this is a test for Scotia, then warriors will interfere. She does not want anyone to know what she is about until she is sure she will be a boon to our fight. I have promised her to keep this secret—though neither of us thought you still in the spy business.” ’Twas another good reason not to let what had happened between him and Scotia happen again, he only then realized. “You have placed her in my care, and I have earned her trust.” Unless he had lost it today, but he did not say that to Nicholas. “I will not jeopardize that by pushing her on this. Not yet.”

  Nicholas took a moment to consider Duncan’s words, looking from Duncan to Scotia again, who seemed to purposely look anywhere but at the two men.

  “Very well. You have done well with her so far. I will give the lass a little more time to hone her skills in privacy, but only a little, for if Jeanette’s visions are true, Lord Sherwood and his detachment will be here very soon. In the meantime . . .”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EARLY THE NEXT morn, Duncan moved silently through the wood, fully armed and only a little concerned for the safety of his companion. When he had roused Scotia well before dawn and told her the plan for the day, a combination scouting expedition and training day, she had glared at him at first, then leapt from her blankets without a word, and before he knew it she had led him up a deer trail he had never explored and out of the Glen of Caves, easily skirting the doubled guards around the passes.

  As soon as they began to descend the ben, Scotia seemed to relax. She had stopped just as the sun’s wan light turned the eastern sky shades of subtle pinks and purples, and bade him to lead the way as she did not ken where they were bound. Ever since, she had followed behind him quietly, but he kept feeling as if she stared at his back. Whenever he looked over his shoulder—to make sure she was still there, he told himself—she was simply trudging along, her eyes on her feet, or searching the forest around them.

  Last night her eyes had been on him, as if she battled with her feelings for him, the feelings he knew she held but did not want. But this morning she was more settled, and it seemed her battle had been won. And yet he could swear she tried to stare a hole in his back, though he could not catch her at it.

  He fought his own battle this day. When he had gone to wake her this morn, she had looked so peaceful, so sweet, it had taken all his resolve not to touch her, not to run his fingers over the smooth plane of her cheek, or to take her hand in his. It had t
aken all of his resolve to keep himself from simply watching her sleep. He had said her name quietly and her eyes had popped open immediately. He was glad he had controlled his desires and not made a fool of himself.

  Even now, as they neared the outer watches set around the castle, he struggled to keep his mind off Scotia and what she might be thinking and feeling. He struggled to stay focused on what they were about. The English lord would probably send advance parties ahead of the main force to scout out the land, the whereabouts of the MacAlpins, food sources, likely ambush locations, and anything else they could learn that might be of use to the lord when he arrived. It would not do for Duncan and Scotia to stumble into one of those advance parties because he was preoccupied with the lass.

  He held up his hand, his signal to halt, and looked about him. This would be as good a place as any to begin the day’s work.

  “Hide yourself,” he said to Scotia. “You need to be close to where an enemy might pass—within striking distance, but not seen.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him, shook her head a little, then set about gathering fallen branches, twigs, and a vine that grew up the side of an ancient tree. In a shorter time than he expected, she had disappeared under a mat that looked like the rest of the forest floor. To his surprise she had even thought to draw her sword and dagger before she had taken cover. She would be ready for any enemy who passed by her.

  “Stay there,” he said. “I will return shortly, and I expect you to hold your position until I do. Even if Lord Sherwood himself rides by you, do not engage. Do you understand?”

  “You are quite clear, Duncan. Go now so that you might return sooner.” The edge of irritation in her muffled voice was familiar.

  He faded back into the wood far enough that she would think him gone, then climbed a tree to keep watch, to make sure she did exactly as he bade her. If he did not ken where she crouched in her leafy hide, he did not think he would ever notice she was there.

  When he was reasonably certain she really was heeding his order to stay hidden, he climbed down from his perch and made his way toward the castle. When he was out of her earshot, he made the call of the tawny owl, and listened. In the distance the call was repeated so he made his way in that direction, using the owl call twice more to find Brodie MacAlpin sitting high up in a tree, keeping watch over the castle and the surrounding land and loch.

  Duncan made a hand signal that meant “What news?” and watched as Brodie made another, indicating there had been no sightings of their enemy. Duncan nodded, waved good-bye, and decided to return to check on Scotia rather than move on to one of the other two men keeping watch today. He trusted her to keep to her task, but still, she was Scotia and it was only prudent to check on her.

  When he drew near, he climbed the tree once more, and had to search to make out her hide, right where it had been when he’d left her. As far as he could tell nothing had changed. Relief swept through him, loosening the muscles in his back that he had not realized were tense.

  “You can come out now,” he said, as he neared her place.

  “Of course,” she said from behind him.

  He spun and found her standing within striking distance of him, a second hide scattered around her feet and a grin of triumph upon her heart-shaped face.

  Anger and pride fought within him. She had not followed his order as a good warrior should, but she had hidden herself so well, even he had not discovered her true hiding place.

  “You were not to move,” he finally said.

  “But this was better, aye?”

  Duncan fought the desire to return the grin that lit up her entire countenance. He fought the desire to sweep her up in his arms in celebration of her excellent ruse that would serve her well in battle, if not her fellow warriors.

  He clenched his teeth and pressed his lips together until the urge to smile was under control. “Nay,” he said. “Following orders is better.” He watched as the delight sparkling in her eyes dimmed. “If you cannot do that simple thing, I can never recommend you to fight among the clan’s warriors. In order to defend the clan together, you must be relied upon to follow the orders given you. Everyone’s life will depend upon you doing what you have been told.” He looked away to the west, hating that he could not tell her also how proud he was of her for thinking for herself, but as hard as this was, ’twas a necessary lesson.

  “This was a test, Scotia, and you failed.”

  SCOTIA WATCHED AS Duncan strode away from her. Her mind was reeling at his harsh words. She had seen the surprise, and the instant of pleasure that had made Duncan’s dark eyes shine, but then it had been replaced with an awkward anger, or maybe just disappointment.

  Failed? She had not failed! She had surprised him, Duncan, the best tracker in the clan. She had hidden herself even better than he had asked her to, waiting patiently until she knew when he had climbed out of that tree and gone to find a watcher. She had already noted where more branches, vines, and bracken lay nearby before she’d even completed the first hide, so it took only moments for her to construct the second one and take her place beneath it. From that point on she had followed Duncan’s orders, awaiting his return while staying alert for any passing English.

  Anticipation of his appreciation for her ingenuity had made it easy to crouch, weapons in hand, her attention and senses fixed on the area around her for a long time. She had known the moment he had climbed that damned tree again, and it was only then that she found it hard to await his return.

  Now she wished he had never returned. Damned man.

  “Where are we going?” Scotia hissed from behind him, still picking leaves from her hair.

  Duncan sliced a hand through the air, his sign for silence, and kept going, irritating her beyond her ability to keep silent.

  “Duncan!” She knew better than to yell at him, which is what she would have done even a fortnight ago, but she was determined to explain why she did not follow his instructions exactly but that she had followed what he had intended by them.

  When he kept moving without even that stupid hand signal for silence, she said his name again. “Duncan!” This time she let her voice be a little louder. “I did nothing wrong.”

  Still he ignored her, though his pace increased, making it harder for her to keep up with his long strides.

  “What is wrong with you?!” she asked. “I did—”

  “Haud yer wheesht!” he said over his shoulder, but he didn’t look at her.

  Stupid, idiotic, bothersome, irritating, silent man. Scotia let the litany of angry descriptions swirl in her head, over and over again, until she could barely contain her anger at his dismissal and withdrawal from her. She had done almost exactly as he had required, so she would not endanger his agreement to train her. That one small change had not put her in any more danger than she might already have been in, and it made her position even more secure. Duncan should be proud of her for making his order even better.

  “Duncan,” she tried again, “stop! You know as well as I that I did not fail to follow your orders.”

  The only sign that he even heard her was that stupid hand signal once more.

  Irritation turned to ire. She was not wrong. He was, but he would never admit that to her. He would never admit that she might have done something strategically better than what he had told her to do.

  Something snapped in Scotia’s head, or maybe it was in her gut. Either way, she charged Duncan, racing up behind him and leaping on his back, her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, her lips at his ear ready to demand he stop, but before she could form the first word the world flipped around on her. She flew over Duncan’s back and landed hard on hers. Her left arm was wrenched at a painful angle in Duncan’s powerful grip, his foot on her neck. Thankfully, the waterskin she carried had pillowed her spine, though the cool wet that she lay in told her it had not survived the impact.

  And then Duncan released her as if he had been burned.

  “What were you thinking
, Scotia?” he demanded, though he kept his voice hushed. He stepped back from her. “I could have killed you.” And then his face went from anger to shock, and he knelt beside her. The similarity of their positions to the much more intimate moments of yesterday seemed to hit them both at the same time, and the awkwardness she’d been trying to ignore burst to life between them.

  “Och, lass, did I hurt you?” His words were soft with concern.

  “Not as much as I shall hurt you,” she said, pushing herself up to a sitting position, “once I get my breath back.” She glared at him, intent on returning their relationship to what it had been before . . . before it had changed. “At least I got your attention,” she snapped at him.

  Duncan sat back. “You always have my attention.”

  “Only when I dinna want it.” She tried not to wince as his eyes went hard, but she did not let his reaction stop her. “I did what you bade me. Are you angry because I made your order better?”

  “Nay.” But he did not look at her.

  “Do not lie to me, Duncan. For a moment you did think well of what I did, but then you denied that, to yourself and to me. Why? Why would you do that? Is it because I forbid you to”—she hated that her voice wobbled—“to touch me again?”

  Still he did not look at her. She started to rise, and he reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her in place. “You are right, Scotia,” he said looking at her now, but she could not read the emotion in his eyes. “What you did was smart. You used your knowledge of strategy creatively—”

  Warmth began to wash through her with his words and the feel of his hand on her. She started to smile but he pressed his lips together and sighed.

  “—an excellent trait in a leader, but you are not a leader. You might become one, one day, but that is a long way off.”

  “And you are a leader?” she asked, getting to her feet and picking up the useless waterskin.