Highland Treasure

by Mary McCall

  "The fool would bloody well let me freeze and starve to death.” She huddled deeply into the plaid. “I'm going to find that Highland wildcat, and he'll not be able to growl at all when I get done with him.” Her spine straightened, and her hands fisted as she bellowed, “MacPherson, I'll feed your bleeding carcass to Harry if you leave me again!"

  Laughter rumbled behind her. Hope whirled around. Leonce stood so close she had to take a step backward just to look at his face without falling. Why in perdition had she not sensed his presence?

  Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “I told you afore, Lady Sass, I have very good ears. You do not need to bellow."

  The no-good rogue was laughing at her! She narrowed her eyes. “You randy goat, how much did you hear?"

  "I'll not be letting you freeze nor starve to dea...” The humor fled his face, and he scowled. “Did you just call me a goat?"

  Her fists came to rest on her hips. “If you're neither deaf nor daft, and you're just now asking, then your mind must be slow, because it took you too long to figure it out."

  The tic appeared in his cheek. “You will apologize."

  "You live with the fairies out in fairyland if you think I will."

  "Mayhap ‘tis time I taught you the difference between a beating and a spanking.” He reached toward her.

  Hope jumped back and slapped at his hands. “Do not touch me, you cursed rotten brute, or I will—"

  "What is wrong, Hope?” His brow furrowed with concern.

  "I am bloody furious!"

  "Nay, you're hurting. ‘Tis why you bellow.” He pulled her into his embrace and ran his hands over her.

  "I am bellowing from anger, not pain.” His hands brushed over her throbbing rump. “Stop that!” She shoved away from him.

  His tilted his head and studied her with bemusement. “If ‘tis not pain, then what has your temper blazing?"

  "You!” The forest went silent as her bellow scared away the wildlife.

  Leonce sighed and crossed his arms before his chest. “Tell me what I did that has you upset."

  That request sounded too bloody reasonable. “Can you not even argue proper? You're not supposed to be nice in the middle of a fight!"

  "I'll not fight you if I do not know what the fighting is about.” He looked exasperated.

  "You left me again!” Cursed and zounds! Did she just stamp her foot like a spoiled child?

  "I am here."

  He was too calm. What did it take to rile him? “Do not ever let me wake and find you gone again!"

  "Why?"

  "Why?” she repeated, taken aback.

  Leonce nodded.

  Well, cursed bloody rot! Here she was trying to keep him from seeing her pain, and he expected an answer. “Because I wanted to cuddle!"

  "Did you say cuddle? That is what all the bellows and insults are about?"

  She nodded forlornly. What a dumb excuse! Hope sighed, and then shook her head. “'Tis not the truth."

  "You did not want to cuddle?” Leonce turned the word into a caress.

  "Aye, I did, but ‘twas not why I raised my voice."

  "Bellowed."

  She nodded and looked into his eyes. “I owe you an apology."

  "You do,” he agreed.

  "But not for the reason you think.” She saw an arrogant brow shoot up over a mesmerizing amber eye and looked away so she could think. “When I woke and found you gone, I thought you'd decided not to keep me. I'm sorry for thinking such a cursed thing. You're a good chieftain. ‘Tis the truth, I'm not used to having someone want me around, and I was rather liking it."

  "Come to me, Hope.” He drew her into a strong embrace, squeezing her tighter than her sore muscles preferred.

  Zounds! She hurt, but she bloody well wouldn't groan. “I am also sorry I enraged you. I don't understand why I have this problem with my passions lately, but I'll work on stifling them."

  "I like your passions the way they are.” He kissed the top of her head. “You'll not have this trouble after you get used to feeling secure. And I'll not accept your second apology because you never enraged me, only provoked me."

  "Never?” she asked skeptically.

  He shook his head.

  "Not even when I killed the rogue boar? That was provoked?"

  He nodded. “I can only think of two times off the battlefield when I've been enraged. I pray you never have to see it."

  "Why? What do you do?"

  "Kill,” he said evenly.

  She swallowed convulsively.

  "Come, love. Let's break your fast and go home.” He began turning and slipped an arm around her.

  She placed both palms against his chest and planted her feet. “Wait! What happened that enraged you?"

  He studied her briefly and nodded once. “I knew nothing of Bertie until he was past his second summer. The bitch that whelped him never told me. She sold him to a Welsh goatherd to raise as a slave. When I found Bertie, he was covered with filth and bruises and near dead from starvation."

  Hope glowered and crossed her arms in front of her as rage churned in her gut over the injustice. “So you killed the cursed goatherd?"

  "I killed them both."

  She nodded approvingly. “Bloody good for you. ‘Tis what I'd have wanted to do. What about the other time?"

  "When I saw your back."

  That stunned her, and she could barely keep from gaping. “But you did not kill anyone."

  A feral glimmer sparked in his eyes. “I will."

  * * * *

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  * * * *

  While leading Hope to the stream, Leonce decided she either wanted to see him enraged or his earlier assumption was correct; she hurt. The woman sassed and contradicted everything he said. Her wild grace was missing too. What was the word Lady Fraser used? Rigid. Aye, his wife walked like an ice queen instead of his hot-blooded vixen.

  Diable was quenching his palate when they arrived. Hope bid her friend good morning and knelt beside him. She splashed water on her face and satisfied her thirst. Leonce shook his head when she softly moaned upon rising. He handed her an apple, which she fed to the stallion. She told the grandiose fib that her digestion worked better if she walked while she ate her oatcake. Constant chatter fell from her lips as she paced, chewed and swallowed.

  With the last bite gone, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, clasped her hands before her, and presented him with her damned complacent mask. “'Tis a glorious morn. What think you of giving Diable the day off and walking home?"

  God's teeth, the woman must be in excruciating pain. He had to get her to admit to what ailed her so she wouldn't injure herself further.

  His eyes fell upon a crumb just below her bottom lip. Even with his grave concern, some things shouldn't be ignored. After all, he couldn't have his wife walking around with food on her face, could he? Leaning forward, he licked her lip and removed the morsel.

  Hope jumped back and held a tremulous hand against the spot. “Why did you do that?"

  "'Twas a crumb, and tasting it has made me hungry for other fare.” He raised and lowered his brows a few times.

  "I'm full.” She took another step back.

  He'd been jesting and had no intention of taking her, but mayhap the prospect of a wee bit of love play would goad her into confessing her torment. “Nay, wife. You're not full yet, but I'm about to fill you up."

  "If we are walking, shouldn't we leave?” Hope said as she took a few more paces backward.

  "We're not walking. We have plenty of time to sate my appetite."

  She backed into a tree. “'Tis too cursed cold to take our clothes off."

  "We don't have to.” He cast her a lusty wink and pulled his plaid aside, resting a hand on each hip.

  Hope's brows snapped together, and her fists settled on her hips. “We're not going to for a week, and I bloody well mean it!"

  "Dare you refuse me?” he asked in a menacing tone.


  She wrung her hands, then sighed and nodded. “I'm cursed, Leonce. I need a week."

  "Nay, wife. You had your woman's curse the day your stitches came out, else I would have taken you then and not gone raiding."

  "Is that why you left?” She looked up in surprise.

  His gaze burned into hers. “Aye, love. ‘Twas torture being near you and not touching you."

  "Zounds, Leonce!” She raised a hand to her brow. “I do not want to torture you, but I need a week!"

  Apparently no one had ever pushed her this far. She couldn't maintain that damned mask as well as Lady Fraser thought. Hope must learn to trust him not to use her pain against her. “Nay, not even a day. I'll not have my wife denying me. Come here and hitch up your gown."

  Hope inched toward him, twisting her hands in her skirt. “Leonce, I'm not delicate, and I want to do this, but...” She stopped in front of him.

  He lifted her chin, making her look at him. “But?"

  "I've been lying around so much since I got here that I've grown soft. All that activity yesterday and last night made me...” She glanced away and bit her lower lip.

  He gently tucked an errant lock behind her ear. “Tender?"

  "I'm bloody well beyond tender!” she wailed. “I'm in dire agony. If I ride either you or Diable today, then you might as well build me a cursed box, because ‘twill bloody well kill me!"

  Leonce pulled her into his arms and brushed his lips across her forehead. Then he pressed her cheek against his chest and rested his chin on top of her head. “Was it so hard to tell me?"

  "Aye."

  "I don't enjoy your pain, and I'll not hold it against you. You can have your week.” He resigned himself. Marriage was turning him into an intermittent monk. “Let's get you home and into a hot bath."

  She stiffened. “You would burn me?"

  "You've never had a hot bath?"

  "You think rivers are hot?” she grumbled.

  "Nay.” He grinned at her irritation. “The hot water will soothe your muscles so you can relax."

  "Oh.” She pouted.

  He frowned, perplexed by her reaction. “You don't wish to ease the pain?"

  Hope fidgeted with his plaid and blushed. “I was bloody well hoping you would rub balm on me like you did afore."

  Leonce gave her a roguish grin. “Were you now?"

  She rubbed her forehead against his chest. “I do like the way your hands make me feel when you rub my back."

  Smiling over her head, he gently rubbed her back.

  "I don't want to torture you, Leonce. Will you come see me this week, or will you be raiding the whole time?"

  "I'm thinking this week I'll be staying home."

  "Truly?” She raised hopeful eyes.

  "And every morning we can cuddle.” He rubbed his nose against hers and set her back. Taking the extra plaid from her shoulders, he folded it into a soft cushion. Diable responded to his open palm. Leonce placed the plaid across the stallion's fore back and then held out a hand to Hope.

  She sat on Diable, groaning as her tender backside landed on the plaid. Leonce mounted behind her and slipped one arm behind her back and his other arm under her legs. Then he lifted her against his chest. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she nestled her head beneath his chin and sighed.

  "Good fortune smiles, Hope. Our friend does not need a bridle, and I am not in your lap.” Leonce nudged Diable with his knees, and they set off at an easy pace.

  "My thanks, Leonce. I'm bloody certain you're the best of all the chieftains in the Highlands."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  * * * *

  During the journey home, Leonce questioned Hope, attempting to fill the gaps in what he knew of her past. She described a maze of secret passages below the Nevilles's holding that exited into a cave outside the curtain wall. One of the old Saxon servants, captured during the Norman invasion, gave the secret to Marcail, who passed it on to Hope. Her mother never recovered sufficiently from one beating before receiving another, thus never possessed the strength to use the tunnels to escape. He wondered where Hope came upon her strength. Most men couldn't have fled in the condition she was in upon her arrival.

  His rage threatened to boil as she spoke of her first winter on her own. She'd seen only eleven summers at the time and was so cold and hungry that she sneaked through the maze and stole food from the kitchen. After pilfering a loaf of bread, cheese and a pitcher of milk, she lost her way in the tunnels.

  Hope glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling. “I almost panicked. Then I realized my shivers had stopped, and I was toasty warm. I had a great jest on my cursed father. There I was feeling pitiful, and the Good Lord's angels pushed me right into a small chamber beneath the great hearth. With the fire constantly blazing above due to the baron's softness, I was bloody well warmer than anyone up top with drafts from doors and windows."

  Leonce smiled and sent a silent prayer to his Maker, thanking Him for angels. Approaching his mountain later, he didn't have all the gaps filled in, but he knew Baron Nevilles wouldn't be blessed with a quick death.

  They entered the fore and started up the mountain. Hope gasped. He glanced around but saw nothing amiss. “What is wrong?"

  "I didn't know there were so many of us,” she whispered.

  He smiled over her use of the word “us” and looked proudly at his clan. Every man, woman and child had lined up along the path. The contemptuous glares were gone, and they waited to welcome home their chieftain and lady. As Leonce and Hope progressed toward the keep, MacPherson warriors broke away from the lines and followed on foot.

  Rob's young lad raced toward them. Before Diable could react, Hope placed a hand on the stallion. “Stay calm, my beauty. The lad means no harm. We'll wait for him."

  Diable stopped as Robbie halted at their side and held up an ill-assorted bouquet of spring wildflowers with broken stems of various lengths hanging from the bottom. “They are for your lady, Chief, for saving me."

  Leonce accepted the gift from the child and handed the blooms to Hope, praying she wouldn't insult the lad over his puny offering. Hope buried her nose in the flowers and inhaled the sweetly blended fragrances. Then she lowered the bouquet and raised her face to the sun. She shut her eyes and sighed. Leonce's breath hitched at her radiance.

  After a lingering moment, Hope flashed a smile at the boy. “My thanks for this kind token, young Robbie. ‘Twill grace the table in the hall, so The MacPherson and I may enjoy these blooms as we dine."

  Robbie turned bright red, ran back to Mauri, and hid his face in the folds of her skirts. Leonce nudged Diable, resuming their trek up the path. He need not have worried. Hope made the boy feel as if he had given her all the jewels in the world.

  Her pleasure at the gesture was so intense that his rage burned hotter. Most daughters of Norman barons would have rebuked the lad for the paltry gift. Hope had experienced so much deprivation and neglect in her life that the smallest kindness brought her happiness. She had savored that moment. He knew someday Hope would look back on her life and enjoy remembering the time young Robbie gave her a broken bouquet.

  Reaching the front of the keep, Leonce swung his leg over Diable's neck and slid to the ground with Hope in his arms.

  "Milady, catch,” Darach called.

  Hope glanced up and caught the apple he tossed her and then raised inquiring eyes to his.

  "'Tis for your friend."

  She smiled in reply, and damn if Leonce didn't have a problem with a blushing warrior. He carried Hope to Diable's head so she could feed her friend the treat. The stable-master cautiously moved forward with a rope.

  "Don't even think about it, Fergie,” Leonce said. “Diable isn't our horse. He's our friend.” Hope tensed as a guarded expression crossed her face. Though she continued feeding Diable, her eyes scanned the area. She soon relaxed and lost the guarded look, but persisted with her scrutiny, wearing a puzzled frown.

  "What
is wrong, Hope?"

  "Someone stalks me, but ‘tis all right. Whoever it is means no harm."

  Leonce frowned. “You're safe. Trust me to protect you."

  "I do.” She smiled and petted his cheek. “The day we wed, I saw a young man with big brown eyes and blond hair. He walked bent over with a limp. I've not seen him since. Know where he is? I want to meet him."

  Before Leonce could think of an answer to put her off, Diable smacked his lips and kissed her cheek. Then the stallion nudged Leonce and galloped off.

  Hope scowled. “Diable's manners are lacking. He forgot to kiss his chieftain."

  The warriors burst into laughter.

  "What is so cursed funny?” Hope glared at the warriors—all one zillion of them.

  Leonce chuckled. “Diable won't kiss me because he is jealous."

  "Why?” She looked at him like he had finally gone daft and she wasn't surprised.

  Leonce tightened his grip and passionately kissed her. His warriors cheered and hooted. Releasing her lips, he grinned at her dreamy expression. Her face rapidly flushed with embarrassment.

  "Oh.” She hid her face against his neck.

  A roar of laughter escaped him, and he carried her toward the steps.

  "Put me down,” she ordered.

  "Nay. The stairs will be too rough on your sore muscles."

  "Bloody rot, Lion,” she whispered. “I'll not have our warriors thinking I am delicate and weak."

  Reaching the landing, Leonce lowered her feet to the ground. She teetered and grabbed his arm for support. After a moment, she released a ragged breath and smiled up at him. “My thanks."

  He slipped an arm around her waist and turned her to face his men.

  "Zounds, MacPherson! Our warriors are sick! They have fallen to their knees and clutch their chests!"

  Leonce eyed his men, silently ordering them not to laugh. “They're not sick. They kneel afore Lady MacPherson and place a hand over their hearts to pledge their fidelity. They will give up their lives to keep you safe."

  "Oh.” Hope turned a solemn gaze upon the warriors. “Hold these.” She thrust the bouquet into his hand. Then she knelt down, placed a hand over her heart, and bowed her head.

  Silence reigned as the astonished warriors watched their lady pay tribute to them. She kept it up too—for almost five minutes.