Lord of Legend

by Charlene Cross

  Thrusting any thoughts of the legend from her mind, Chandra disrobed, then marched to the basin, where she bathed herself and cleaned her teeth. Garbed in a light woolen shift, she slipped beneath the covers of her bed. As she leaned toward the candle, intending to snuff its flame, she caught sight of her sheathed knife resting on top of the chest opposite her bed. Remembering her promise to Devin, she hopped to her feet to retrieve the weapon, then settled under the blankets anew.

  In a quick breath, darkness fell upon her secured chamber. Punching her pillow, her knife hidden beneath its plump mass, Chandra stared through the shadows at the door, silently daring the arrogant Englishman to attempt entry. It would be the last time he encroached on a Morgan’s turf. That she vowed!

  Sunlight shone through the open window, the low-lying clouds having dispersed. Standing under the warm glow, Aleck stared at his hands, turning them over and over. As green as grass, he thought, his anger fermenting anew. When he’d awakened, nearly as weary as when he’d taken to his small bed, he’d hoped the memories of the previous night were nothing more than a bad dream. Unfortunately they were not. Cursing, he thrust his fingers through his hair, then wondered if it, too, was tinted green.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Aleck strode to the panel, unlocking it. On the other side stood Sir John. The man’s gaze traversed Aleck’s face, then dropped to his hands, the only other parts of Aleck’s well-muscled body not concealed by his clothes.

  “I had hoped it was not as bad as we first thought.” Sir John shook his head and sighed. “Were the sun not shining, it might not be as noticeable. Maybe we should pray for the rain to return.”

  “Have you any more glad tidings to share?” Aleck asked discontentedly.

  Sir John chuckled. “Just that the messenger is on his way to London, as you requested, and that a feast awaits us below. I came to see if you were desirous of breaking the fast.”

  “A feast?” the earl inquired. He stepped to the table and retrieved the packet James had sent him, tucking it into his waistband beneath his jerkin. Smoothing the leather over the parchment, he belted on his sword, then headed for the door. “Are you certain it is not poisoned?”

  “So far the men have felt no ill effects,” Sir John responded as Aleck shut the wooden panel behind them. “Of course, we could wait and watch, but I think it is a peace offering. The Lady Lochlaigh probably is feeling some remorse over her clan’s ill treatment of us—you, in particular. If so, I’m certain the food is safe.”

  “We’ll see,” Aleck grumbled, leading the way to the stairs. As he and Sir John descended the stone steps, the rich aroma of roasted meats filled Aleck’s nostrils. His stomach rumbled, protesting its empty state; saliva flowed into his mouth, the small glands at his jawline burning. Then as he rounded the corner, his attention fell on the hall, its many tables laden with a delicious assortment of provender. Each offering appeared to have been prepared to perfection. “This day, should I die,” Aleck said, heading for his seat, his eyes searching the corners of the room for the beauty who’d served him the night before, “I shall do so in a state of repletion.”

  Sir John laughed aloud. “I also,” he rejoined, positioning himself on the bench next to Aleck. He skewered a plump partridge with his knife, then bit into the basted bird, its skin golden brown and tender. “’Tis delicious, Montbourne. Satisfy your hunger.”

  While the two men ate heartily of the roasted game, warm brown breads, aged cheeses, and dried fruits, washing it all down with several helpings of fresh goat’s milk, Aleck’s ears were periodically attacked by the muffled laughter of the servers who refilled the platters nearest him. Clenching his jaw, he ignored the annoying giggles. Other than an initial few gasps and open-mouthed gapes, his own men remained silent, their gazes wisely affixed to their plates. When he’d eaten his fill, Aleck again searched the hall, but the flame-haired vixen was nowhere in sight.

  “Why is it, Sir John,” he commented more than questioned, having recognized most all of the Morgan clan from the night before, “that the guilty one always vanishes.”

  “Undoubtedly it is a matter of survival.”

  “Aye,” Aleck agreed, trying to quell his temper, for a loud guffaw had shot from behind the stone barrier at the hall’s rear. “Fortunately for her, she had the sense to disappear. That wan-looking fellow along with her.”

  The pair to whom Aleck referred stood mere inches beyond the barrier, waiting for Cedric’s mirth to settle. Having just come from his quarters, he had not seen the Sassenach since the previous night. At his glancing around the stone divider, Cedric’s raucous laughter had surged forth, full and loud. With her lips pressed into a tight line, Chandra stared at him. “Be still, Uncle,” she whispered harshly, “lest you irritate him to the point where he’ll refuse the Lady Lochlaigh’s request to meet with her at last.”

  “But he is green,” Cedric pronounced after he’d quieted.

  “Aye, he is. But what matters to me now is that you have understood my instructions.”

  “I do. But why, Niece, is the Sassenach to meet you outside the castle gates?”

  “Because it is my wish that he does,” she replied, having told Cedric no more than that he was to extend the invitation to the Englishman and inform him that the Lady Lochlaigh would meet him several miles away from the Morgan stronghold on a deserted moor.

  “What if he refuses your invitation?” he asked. “Suspecting a trap, he might not wish to leave the security of these walls. What, Niece, shall I tell him then?”

  “Security? He is not stupid, Uncle. He knows he can be attacked here as well. But if he questions why we are to meet away from the castle, tell him ...” Chandra paused, trying to think of a plausible explanation that would entice the Englishman from inside the fortress. “Tell him the Lady Lochlaigh is engaged in clan business outside the castle. On its completion, she will be traveling north to attend the wedding of a close friend, and will be gone for nearly a month. He is to meet her on the moor, for it will be his only opportunity to do so, unless he wishes to await her return.”

  “Why the deception?” Cedric asked.

  “I have my reasons,” she said, refusing to elaborate. “Just do as I say.” Appearing as though he wanted to argue the point, Cedric hesitated, but to Chandra’s relief, he moved from behind the screen, heading toward the Sassenach.

  Chandra turned to see her cousin inspecting her. “Do not chastise me, Devin. I know you think me foolish, but I’ll not come forth as the Lady Lochlaigh until I know why James has sent him.”

  “And you believe that in his anger, he will blurt out the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Chandra, have you considered that your plan might very well have the reverse effect?”

  “How so?” she asked, confident it would not. “His arranged mishap should do naught but make him a laughingstock.”

  “You said you feared the consequences should anything happen to him at Cedric’s hands. Yet you yourself are tempting fate. What if he breaks his neck?”

  Chandra frowned. Was she tempting fate? No, she decided, refusing to believe it. “He’s an excellent horseman, and the ground is soft from the rain. Naught will happen to him,” she said, positive the only injury suffered by the arrogant Englishman would be to his pride. “Hush, Devin. I’ll hear no more of it. We will do as I’ve planned.” Sighing heavily, her cousin seemed resigned, so she peered around the barrier’s edge. Cedric addressed the Sassenach from across the table. When his words were finished, the younger man first looked to his companion, then with a barked command waved his men away from the benches. “They are headed toward the door,” she said, swinging around, her long braid snapping like a whip. “Come, let’s make our way out the back to the stables.”

  As Aleck and the knight headed toward the doors at the front of the hall, Sir John whispered, “I do not like this.”

  “Nor do I,” Aleck concurred, his eyes examining Cedric’s back.

  “The whole thing
reeks of deception.”

  “Agreed, but if we are to do battle with these heathens, I’d much rather do it out in the open. Should our skills fail us, we can at least attempt an escape. Locked inside these walls, we have nowhere to go. Tell the men to keep alert for an attack.”

  Word was quickly passed to the others as they followed the Earl of Montbourne out into the sunlight, Sir John having positioned himself by the door. When the last of the men had exited from the hall, the knight sought Aleck’s side. “They know to be on their guard,” he told him.

  Aleck responded with a nod, then watched as his saddled mount was led by a young lad from the stables. The stallion seemed skittish, prancing nervously, jerking at the reins. Aleck wondered at his strange behavior, then decided that the steed had undoubtedly caught scent of a mare. A firm hand would be needed to settle him.

  Sidestepping puddles of water, Aleck took the reins from the lad and issued a sharp command; the stallion calmed his edgy movements, but his frequent snorts told Aleck he was still agitated. Then, while the other horses were guided from the stables, Aleck assessed the Morgan men who were to accompany the group, hoping to gauge their moods. They seemed at ease, unconcerned about the upcoming journey out onto the moor. Maybe they actually intended to meet the Lady Lochlaigh as he had been informed.

  Aleck released his breath, and the tension that had strained the muscles along his neck and shoulders freed itself. Turning to survey his own men, he glimpsed a flash of fiery red hair. Immediately he pinpointed the beauty whose plaited tresses had captured his attention. She stood a half dozen yards from him, her sickly companion at her side.

  The two appeared to be engaged in a serious discussion, for her exceptional features were fraught with concern, a slight frown etching her brow. As the young man listened, his jaw set, his expression one of exasperation, her soft lips moved in rapid speech, her low voice drifting away on the light wind that flowed through the yard.

  Briefly Aleck wondered again how that sweet mouth would taste beneath his own. Were he not about to set off to meet the yet unseen Lady Lochlaigh, and were the girl’s relatives not around—especially the latter—he’d span the few feet separating them, take the beauty in his arms, and kiss her senseless, satisfying his curiosity as he did so. Like her clansmen, she despised the English. Yet once his lips claimed hers, he was arrogantly certain, her revulsion would fast turn to desire. Discovering it had, she’d suffer the punishment she rightly deserved. Green his skin might be, but as a lover, he certainly was not. Aleck smiled to himself, positive that, through the mastery of his kiss, the girl would melt at his feet.

  Unfortunately, there was no time to carry out the tempting scenario that spun through his head, for he would soon be riding out the castle gates. However, no harm came from utilizing his imagination; decidedly he’d be safe in his fantasies. So, as the rest of his men received their mounts, he thought of several other ways to chasten her, each one more wicked than the last. Chuckling to himself, Aleck continued to study the imp who had made him look the fool, only to wonder what she was saying.

  “I fear more for the horse than the man himself,” Chandra said to Devin. “The beast already suffers. The thistle—it wasn’t overly large, was it? It won’t wound him too badly, will it?”

  “A fine time to show your concern, cousin. Especially after the thing has already been placed under the saddle.” Devin spied her look of remorse. “’Twill be no worse than a bee sting. ’Twould be better if you were to save some of that fear for yourself.”

  Not absorbing the last of his words, Chandra bit her bottom lip. Silently she chastised herself for the cruelty the poor stallion was suffering and would yet suffer. She was irritated with the Englishman, not his steed. Damn him! Why had he come here?

  An odd feeling overcame Chandra. She was being watched. Her head turned and her eyes met those of sky blue. The Sassenach’s assessing gaze raked over her suggestively; his lips broke into a knowing smile. As he lazily continued to view her, Chandra felt strangely warm. Then conversely she shivered.

  He was undeniably attractive, she thought Extremely masculine, too. But he was English—arrogant and brash. For that reason alone, she desired his attention as much as she would a bout of the plague. Her narrowed eyes ran over his face. In the sunlight, he resembled a clump of moss. Unable to contain herself, Chandra fell into the giggles.

  Aleck gritted his teeth, then called out: “We shall see who has the last laugh.” He turned and placed his foot in the stirrup, pulling himself astride his horse. Snared by his ire—the girl dared to snicker in his face!—Aleck paid little heed to the stallion’s nervous snort. But when Aleck’s backside hit the saddle, the beast expelled an angry neigh; the stallion’s hindquarters jerked, then he bucked violently. Once, twice, Aleck’s bottom met the leather seat, then he flew through the air. With a whoosh, he landed flat on his back in the mud.

  First there was silence, then uproarious laughter exploded in his ears. Above the bellowing guffaws, which stung his pride and piqued his anger further, Aleck heard Chandra’s mirthful cries. Like a crystal bell, they tinkled merrily in his ears. Springing to his feet, he sloshed through the mire toward the galling sound. Shortly he stood before the vixen who’d duped him a second time.

  As she tried to suppress her glee, Chandra’s dancing eyes were met by those of blue ice. Unwisely, she ignored the warning written in their frigid depths. Viewing his mud-spattered face, she stood her ground, her giggles still bubbling forth.

  Like a taut wire, Aleck’s restrained fury snapped. His fingers banded her arms, and he jerked her fully against him. “Witch,” he hissed, “I am tempted to thrash you until you beg for mercy.” Then one hand slowly moved toward her throat. “On second thought, I should break your sweet little neck and be done with your bedeviling tricks.”

  The sound of cold steel sliced through the air a hundred times over; Aleck tensed. Certain the multitude of claymores were all aimed at his back, he searched the flame-haired beauty’s eyes. Morgan pride glistened in them, daring him to follow through with his threats. Behind him, the whole clan stood ready to slay him for having boldly challenged this one woman who was not too far from being a girl. But why?

  The murky veil of confusion that had clouded his brain was quickly stripped aside. A sudden dawning took its place. “You, I presume, are the elusive Lady Lochlaigh.”

  Chapter

  4

  You presume correctly,” Chandra said curtly. “Unhand me or you shall presume no more.”

  A reckless smile crossed Aleck’s lips. “I think not, milady. Were I to release you, you might slip from my sight, and that I cannot risk. You and I have some important matters to discuss.”

  “You arrogant lout,” she snapped. “Have you not enough sense to know that, were I to give the word, in a twinkling you would be dead?”

  “I do,” he stated, “but I also perceive that you have enough sense to know that were I to die, James, along with his full army, would lay waste to Castle Lochlaigh. The clan Morgan would quickly fall into extinction. If that is what you desire, give the word. If not, tell the whole to lower their weapons and sheathe their swords.”

  For a long moment, their gazes clashed. A war of wills ensued. Finally, knowing she had no other choice, Chandra shifted her attention to Cedric. The man’s sword was held mere inches from Aleck’s spine, ready to plunge. “There will be no fighting,” she said, then noted her uncle’s hesitation. “Lower your weapons,” she called for all to hear. Discontented rumblings were heard throughout the yard, but each sword soon slipped into its scabbard, including Cedric’s. “Peace shall prevail this day, Sassenach. But only because I willed it,” Chandra said, her jaw set mutinously. “Now, take your hands off me and tell me why our king has sent you.”

  Aleck released her. “Directly,” he said, “but first I need to scrape some of this muck from my person. Then I will join you in the hall.”

  “Would milord be desirous of another bath?” she asked, he
r head tilting haughtily.

  “No.” His terse reply came over his shoulder as he strode toward his mount. Checking beneath the saddle, he pulled the thistle free to observe that the barbs were stained with blood. “I have endured enough of the Lady Lochlaigh’s benevolent hospitality.” He tossed the thing aside. “And so has my steed.”

  Chandra watched the stallion being led back into the stables by the Englishman’s own hand, remorsefulness welling inside her. The feeling, however, was for the horse, not for the man. The beast had suffered needlessly, for her scheme had unraveled like a worn piece of Morgan plaid. He was aware of her identity, and she could no longer evade him. For all her childish maneuvers, she’d gained nothing, except perhaps the pleasure of watching him fall from his horse into the mud, taking another blow to his lordly pride. But the answer she sought remained a mystery to her still.

  Her shoulders sagging, she headed toward the doors of the great hall. Devin and Cedric followed her. Inside, she turned to her uncle. “When the Sassenach enters, show him to my antechamber. I’ll await him there.” She took hold of Devin’s hand, pulling him toward the stairs.

  “What will you do now?” her cousin asked as they climbed the ancient steps.

  “There is not much I can do, except wait. Soon I shall learn the truth.”

  His clean leather-clad hip perched on the corner of a table, Aleck watched as the Lady Lochlaigh tore through the wax seal and read the missive sent by their king. Her hands began to tremble, then her gaze shot to his face. By the set of her jaw, Aleck could tell she gritted her teeth.

  “’Twas not my doing but our king’s,” he said in response to the accusation written on her face. “In truth, I wish he had chosen someone else.”