The Daring Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series)

by Carmen Caine

  With an easy grin, Julian bought the man another tankard, and in moments had secured his passage to Edinburgh.

  "But I've nae mind for the king's black money, lad,” the captain insisted gruffly, spitting a little as he talked. He was a middle-aged portly man with a stubborn air but a sincere face. “Ye must pay in good honest silver. I'll nae accept the Cochrane Plack, no matter how many laws the king passes!"

  "Aye," Julian agreed without hesitation, pressing a silver coin into the man's palm.

  The captain eyed the coin and then punched Julian on the shoulder, a smile hiding in his unruly beard. “Then dinna be late, lad. We sail with the dawn!”

  Julian smiled, downing a tankard himself as he listened to the men complain about Thomas Cochrane's latest scheme to debase the king’s coin by mixing good silver with copper. “Black Money”, most called it, and some called it “Cochrane Plack”. And few, if any, would accept the coinage in payment for goods, in spite of the numerous laws the king had issued to make them do so.

  Growing weary of hearing Cochrane’s name, Julian left to sell his horse, and then wandered aimlessly along the docks for a time, watching the bank of clouds roll in with the tide.

  The night passed quickly, and soon enough he was leaning against the deck railing of The Yellow Carvel watching France dwindle into the distance. Next to him stood a somber woman holding a bairn whose wee face contorted into tears the moment Julian looked at him.

  Quickly, Julian moved away.

  Ach, he would never understand bairns nor why anyone would want one of the complicated little beasties.

  As the ship plowed through the sea, wave by wave, he let his mind wander over Albany’s latest treachery and the very real threat of war. And by the time the afternoon sun finally pierced the pearly haze that shrouded the sea, his head was aching. Aye, he hadn’t thought it possible, but he now detested Albany even more.

  Days passed, and at last they were sailing up Scotland’s black, jagged coast.

  Opening his arms wide, Julian breathed deeply of the fresh chill air, eyeing the sea cliffs sprinkled with tufts of grass. Standing on the deck with a cool breeze at his back and the sun warm on his face, he questioned, as he had upon occasion, if he were finally growing tired of Le Marin’s escapades. There were times he wondered if he should abide by his mother’s advice to stay in Scotland and preside over Castle Huntly.

  Fortunately, the feeling never lasted very long.

  Soon, The Yellow Carvel made its way up the Forth, lined with thatched cottages on either side, and finally to the docks. Once disembarked, Julian lost no time in securing a horse, and then proceeded to gallop madly to Edinburgh.

  Before him, the dark and mighty Edinburgh Castle grew steadily closer, rising high upon the rocky cliffs surrounding the town and the Forth Valley. And soon enough he had entered the city gates, guiding his horse up the cobblestoned streets leading straight to the castle’s main entrance.

  The guardsmen let him in at once, and taking the steps two at a time, he arrived at Cameron’s private apartments quite out of breath.

  Pounding on the door, he rested his head momentarily against his arm.

  He was unprepared for the door to be yanked open immediately, and that by Cameron Stewart, the Earl of Lennox himself.

  “Come in, lad! They told me ye’d arrived with haste!” Cameron pulled him inside at once. “Ach, ye look haggard, Julian!”

  The Earl of Lennox was a tall man, dark haired, broad-shouldered and imposing, but the smile in his penetrating eyes was mirrored upon his chiseled lips. “’Tis good to see ye again!”

  “Aye,” Julian agreed in a heavy tone.

  Cameron’s eyes darkened and his lips thinned. “It canna be good tidings, then.”

  Julian grimaced in answer.

  The earl expelled a breath. “Then let it wait a moment. Drink first.”

  Wearily, Julian followed him across the chamber to a small table laden with goblets and a platter of sweetmeats.

  “Take a seat, lad,” Cameron ordered, pushing him towards the nearest cushioned chair. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen ye. What has it been? A year almost?”

  “Aye,” Julian grinned tiredly, accepting the proffered goblet and draining it in a single draught. He had last seen Cameron upon the birth of his second daughter. Sizing the earl up and down, he added, "Matrimony and fatherhood becomes ye, lad, though ye'd best be wary of going as soft as a monk.”

  Nothing could have been further from the truth. The earl was as fit as he’d ever been.

  "'Tis time ye found a lass yourself, Julian.” Cameron’s lip crooked upwards in his version of a laugh.

  "Love is an illness, a wretched disease!" Julian tossed his head back with a wide disparaging grin. “Love is a malady I’ll never suffer from."

  There was a scuffling at the door as the latch lifted, and a group of little girls poured into the room to descend upon Cameron. As they began to squeal, Julian flinched.

  “Julian! ‘Tis been far too long!”

  Rising to his feet, Julian turned to see Cameron’s wife, Kate, the Countess of Lennox entering the chamber, balancing a plump babe on her hip. The diminutive countess glowed. Her cheeks were rosy and her brown eyes sparkled with laughter.

  As she drew closer, Julian could see the smooth curve of motherhood announcing she was expecting her third child. Bending low over her hand, he said with a humorous glint in his gray eyes, "My most beloved Countess of Lennox, 'tis your favorite onion-eyed varlet come to greet ye!"

  "Will ye never forget my foolish words, my lord?" Kate laughed, her nose wrinkling in delight. "Ye know well that I thought ye a thief when I called ye that, nigh on three years ago!"

  Pressing her hand dramatically against his heart, Julian grinned. "I shall never forget, my lady. I half fell in love with ye myself that night.”

  “Ye’ve yet to know what love truly is, ye foolish lad!” Kate laughed again, peering up at her husband with a sly twinkle in her eyes. “But, well do I remember that night.”

  As Cameron sent his wife a smoldering look, Julian glanced away.

  In some ways, he couldn’t understand Cameron anymore. And as the little lassies ran about in circles, shouting with excitement, Julian winced outright.

  Ach, he didn't have anything directly against bairns, but he did privately view them as a wee bit of a nuisance. Cameron had shared that opinion in the past, but it was quite obvious the man had gone a bit daft since meeting Kate. By all appearances, he not only didn't seem to mind the lassies hanging off his arms, he actually looked as if he enjoyed it.

  Moving to tower over his wife, Cameron captured her hand in his long fingers and gave it a soft kiss. “I'll join ye soon, my sweeting."

  “Then I’ll see that your chamber is readied, Julian,” Kate said, and ordering the chattering children to her side, bustled them out the door.

  Once they had gone, Julian shook his head with a droll laugh. "Ach, Cameron, 'tis no wonder affairs of state have deteriorated of late," he observed wryly. "Another bairn? ‘Tis three in as many years as ye’ve been wed! If ye spent half as much time in court as ye do with your wee wife in bed, James would be sitting on the throne of not only Scotland but of England and France by now.”

  Cameron tapped his fingers on the table, a touch amused. And then his face grew serious.

  “Aye.” Julian sighed, reading his expression. “But ye won’t like what I’ve come to say.”

  And he didn’t.

  It didn’t take long for Julian to relate Albany’s latest treachery.

  “Then England prepares for war and so must we,” Cameron said softly when Julian had finished. “I’ll send word to the clans to gather their men.”

  “And I shall ride to Fotheringhay with the dawn,” Julian offered. “We must discover who is supporting his cause.”

  “Aye.” Cameron nodded grimly.

  A silence fell for a time, a silence Julian finally broke. “And how is the king? Is Thomas Cochrane
still the cat who manipulates the royal mouse? Or does James caress Hommil the Tailor and Torfifan the Fencing-Master once again?" Both lowborn men had been royal favorites in the past, before Thomas Cochrane had arrived.

  Cameron shot Julian a dark glance.

  Thomas Cochrane was a sore subject with the earl; he had nearly lost Kate over the man's schemes, which had seen the king’s loyal brother, Mar, accused of witchcraft and then murdered.

  “Aye, ‘tis still Thomas alone who receives the fond kisses and favors of the king, and he is well-guarded,” Cameron finally answered with a sardonic twist of his lip. “My time for vengeance hasna yet come, Julian. I must wait still.”

  “Mayhap not long,” Julian said with a yawn. Rising to his feet, he stretched before adding, “He's a rash, overbold fellow. He might well have made a fatal error with this unsavory black money plot.”

  "Aye, the anger amongst the people has grown uncommonly strong, but dinna underestimate him,” Cameron warned softly. “Though I dare say justice will prevail in the end, Julian.”

  “Aye, but it oft needs a helping hand,” he replied with a hollow laugh. “Very well then, I’ll be off to England with the sun.”

  “Have a care, lad,” Cameron cautioned, escorting him to the door. “These are dangerous times. Have a care.”

  Chapter Three – The Hand of Fate

  Liselle leaned out of the second-story cottage window, soaking in the warmth of the sun as the soft summer winds caressed her face.

  There was more to the handsome young Lord Julian Gray than met the eye.

  Of that, she was certain.

  His charm, combined with an air of mystique and a smile of pure decadence, made him fascinatingly irresistible. And his shrewd, gray eyes reminded her of a hawk in search of prey—far from the drunken fool that Nicoletta claimed him to be. Her sister had sworn to her that he was a simpleton and a scandalous lord, intent only on securing his own pleasure.

  Liselle smiled a secret smile. She might have agreed with Nicoletta if she hadn’t accidentally stumbled upon him one evening perched on the rooftop above the Scottish prince’s window. He crouched there, listening to the man’s pompous ranting for a time, before dropping lightly to the ground and disappearing into the darkness.

  Intrigued, Liselle had begun to follow Julian, much to Nicoletta’s annoyance and Orazio’s concern.

  Santo Ciélo! Liselle rolled her eyes. They trusted her so little!

  Their response to her initiative had been to accuse her of falling in love and so they’d promptly assigned her cousin, Pascal, to watch and dictate her every move since.

  Liselle had retaliated by evading her vigilant cousin, and it hadn’t been easy. Once free, she had slipped into Julian’s chamber at the inn, her goal being to find proof that the man was more than Nicoletta claimed.

  Indeed! He could well be a potential adversary and mayhap someone to watch closely in Scotland!

  Pure instinct and training had helped her to narrowly avoid the snare set by his window. Thus forewarned, she had tiptoed through his chamber with extreme caution.

  And then she had seen him sleeping in his bed.

  Her heart had pulsed in excitement as she’d crept closer to stare down at him in admiration. And she’d stared for far longer than was prudent, but only because his chest had been bare, exposing firm muscles in such a way that left her deliciously breathless. But then she had spied a bundle of parchment resting upon his saddlebag nearby. Reminded of her purpose, she’d just taken a step towards it when Nicoletta’s wail had drifted up from below.

  Dedìa! Her sister could be overbearing at times! And for sure, it must have been that fool, that bábio Pascal, who’d betrayed her whereabouts.

  As Nicoletta’s shrieking grew closer, accompanied by the pounding of feet up the stairs, Liselle had succumbed to the temptation of annoying her sister just a tiny bit more. In one fluid movement, she had slipped out of her gown and into the bed of the sleeping Lord Julian Gray.

  But she hadn’t expected Orazio to be the one to burst through the door.

  Nor had she expected Julian to be so warm, and even more handsome up close.

  She smiled, reliving again the moment he’d discovered her next to him.

  “Liselle!”

  Liselle jumped, startled out of her pleasant memory.

  Nicoletta’s voice was far too close. It was too late to escape. Turning, she spied her older sister charging up the steps, her red-velvet skirts firmly clutched in both hands.

  “Do not even think of running from me!” Nicoletta warned, punctuating each word with an angry huff. “Lord Gray? Why Lord Gray? And just what have you done with him?”

  “Òsti,” Liselle scowled, tossing her hands up in the air. “I am not a child, Nicoletta!”

  Nicoletta arrived out of breath, but still managed a snort of disgust. “Ah sì, and toying with a shameful buffoon proves that?”

  Liselle lifted her chin, letting her hazel eyes flash, but remained silent. Crossing Nicoletta was always a dangerous proposition.

  “Lord Gray is of the most scandalous ilk, Liselle!” Nicoletta continued passionately, wiping her brow and fanning her cheeks. “And you know my plans for him! He is the perfect dupe, and if the need were to arise, I could lay the blame of any action I must take at his feet! I just pray your foolish prank hasn’t ruined my designs, and that you haven’t ruined yourself as well!”

  Liselle’s scowl faded slightly. Her sister’s complexion was sallow and her forehead beaded with sweat. “You look unwell, Nicoletta,” she observed with concern. “What ails you?”

  “Àu! Do not think to distract me!” Nicoletta replied sharply and then repeated for emphasis, “Lord Gray is of the most scandalous ilk! He is naught but a gambling drunkard—un farabùto!”

  But Liselle was not so sure. Recalling the wide variety of snares and weapons the man had hidden in his chamber and bed, she knew there was more to him than just wagering, wine, and women.

  She hesitated, smoothing invisible wrinkles in her skirts as she weighed the choices before her.

  Nicoletta was clearly feeling indisposed. And Liselle knew right well that her older sister sought only to protect her. The bond of sisterly love was fiercely strong between them. It would be kinder to apologize, make peace, and let her rest rather than engage in a conversation that would likely end with Orazio negotiating yet another truce between them.

  “Your hot-blooded nature will be your downfall!” Nicoletta was still speaking in furiously short, clipped tones. “And your lack of judgment is astounding! You are behaving quite rashly, and I’m having Orazio send you straight home!”

  The single word of home wrested the choice of restraint from Liselle’s hands. All at once her anger ignited. Home? How dare they even consider sending her home! She was more than ready to practice the family craft. In fact, she was long past due for her first real assignment.

  “You are the rash one, Nicoletta!” The words burst vehemently forth from Liselle’s lips. “And your plan is flawed if you seek to use Lord Gray as any sort of dupe! He is not what you think. He would not stand by to take the blame for your—“

  “Esumìmi! God help me!” Nicoletta’s beautiful eyes blazed as she lifted an imploring hand to the heavens. “How could you fall for him so swiftly? You are blinded by foolish fancy! I had thought you wiser than this! Did all of those years of learning teach you nothing—”

  “You are the blind one!” Liselle interrupted heatedly. “Your distaste colors your reasoning! You see only the man he wishes you to see!”

  “Can you even hear yourself speak?!” Nicoletta bristled in response. “Can you see what harm you have done? He was perfèto! Perfèto, I tell you! No one at court doubts his flawed, impetuous nature. It would have been easy to implicate him for anything I had to do.”

  Liselle threw her hands up in exasperation once again and retorted, “Not so! He would have found a way to turn the blame back on to you, and you would have paid the heavy price.
That is why I sought to discover his secret! I’ve been watching him—”

  Placing both hands on her hips, Nicoletta cut her short with a snort of disdain and pinned her with a withering glance. “At least in that you speak the truth! Now that I think on it, you have done little more than watch him on every occasion. And his secret is nothing more than constant practice, Liselle, practice at bedding every maid he sees!”

  “Then, is this jealousy?” Liselle’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “You seem to know so much about his character! Are you a jilted lover or—”

  Nicoletta rewarded her with a sharp slap across the face. “That you would say that proves you are not thinking—”

  “Basta! Enough, Nicoletta!” Orazio’s deep baritone startled them both.

  Liselle stepped back, cupping her palm over her stinging cheek, and then both sisters turned on him at once.

  “She lacks prudence, Orazio! And—” Nicoletta began.

  “And she lacks skill!” Liselle inserted quickly. “My talents overshadow hers by far! You know this to be true!”

  “And you both lack discretion! I could hear you from the streets!” Orazio laughed, stepping in between them and shaking his head as he peered down at his sisters in amusement. But then observing Nicoletta, his astute brown eyes grew serious all at once. “You look ill, Nicoletta. What is it?”

  “Santa pazienza!” Nicoletta tiredly waved her hand at her younger sister. “This one will soon send me to my grave.”

  Liselle rolled her eyes at the all too familiar words. “You are not mama, Nicoletta.”

  “But now I understand her so well,” Nicoletta sighed heavily. “I see why she says that of you so often.” And then her knees suddenly buckled, and she would have fallen had not Orazio caught her by the shoulders.

  “Rest,” he ordered, his distinguished features suffused with concern. “I will … handle Liselle.”

  Liselle tensed. It never ended well for her whenever they decided she needed to be handled.

  “Yes. I could rest,” Nicoletta whispered, closing her eyes for several long moments before lifting her dark lashes to glower at Orazio. “You will keep your word?”