Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides)

by Greiman, Lois

  Even in the darkness, she could tell he scowled at her. “I truly dunna think he deserves such a grandiose title, wife. What has he done to gain it? I wonder. He did not even compete in the footraces, and I’ve heard of no great feats he has performed. And if tis just for his looks. Well…” He scoffed.

  “He is handsome enough in a bonny sort of way, I suppose, but not all that tall when ye-”

  She could not help but laugh. “Mayhap we could debate his attributes at another time,” she said.

  “For now, ye might just tell me why ye decided to kill him.”

  “I found them together in his room,” Roderic said, his tone dark.

  Flanna stiffened immediately. “Who?”

  “Dugald and Shona! They were…” He paused, as if he had trouble saying the words aloud. “She was dressed in naught but her nightrail, Flanna, and they were lying on the floor.”

  There was absolute silence as a wild host of emotions raged through Flanna. But finally reality settled in. They were talking about Shona. Shona! Therefore, nothing was ever as it seemed to be.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why was she lying on the floor with the lad?”

  “Why!” He rose to pace irritably, like a great, leonine beast, treading the boundaries of his domain. “I like to think that after a score of years as my wife ye are not so naive as to be uncertain of the purpose.”

  “In our daughter’s veins races the hot blood of the Forbeses, and my own… more noble blood.”

  She waited for him to laugh. It wasn’t a good sign that he failed. She sighed to herself. In truth, their roles were usually reversed. Twas Roderic who was quick to see the humor in things, but not if his daughter’s safety was compromised. “Think on it, Roderic,” she said. “Long Shona has been old enough to want what only a man can give her. But long she has resisted. Why would she cease to do so now?”

  “She would not be the first sweet innocent lass to be seduced by some evil fellow with a heart of stone and a brain of mush. I meant to kill him immediately, but she…”

  He paused.

  “She what?”

  “She said it was her fault.” He said the words most reluctantly, but she heard them nevertheless.

  “Our Shona? Our Shona took the blame?”

  He nodded as he plopped down on the bed once more.

  “Husband,” she said, cupping his cheek in her palm. “I fear ye have been dreaming again. Our daughter is the one who causes trouble, not the one who admits to causing trouble.”

  “Well, she admitted this time.”

  “Our Shona?” Flanna sat up straighter, her mind spinning. “Are ye certain? The lass with the red hair and the mischievous eyes? The one who drags a gaggle of smitten lads about in her wake?”

  “This is not a laughing matter, Wife,” Roderic said.

  “Nay,” she admitted, but she could not quite keep the glee from her voice. For some years she had known she would have to be the one to find a mate for their daughter, for even though Roderic professed his intentions of doing so, it was unlikely he ever would. In truth, he cherished his only daughter too much to let her go to anyone who was less than perfect, and since perfection was a difficult commodity to come by, he probably wouldn’t be marrying her off any time soon. “Nay.” She returned to their conversation with a start. “Nay, tis surely no laughing matter,” she said, but there was laughter in her voice.

  He snorted in anger. “Ye women!” he said and jerked away. She caught him by the hand.

  “Where are ye going?” she asked.

  “It just so happens I’ve an execution to plan.”

  “I thought ye had changed your mind.”

  “Hardly that,” he grumbled. “I am but considering how best to see the job done.”

  She could not help but laugh. “But it’s the middle of the night, love. Canna this weighty matter wait until morn?’

  “She was in the man’s room! Dunna ye realize the significance of this?”

  “Did they have sexual intercourse?”

  “Flanna!” he snarled. “How dare ye use those words when referring to our daughter?”

  “Did they?” she asked.

  Roderic paused. “She said they had not.”

  “And ye think she lied?”

  He snorted. “She lied about the garden fence. We do not have muskrats here.”

  It took Flanna a moment to realize he was referring to an episode from years past. “Shona did not actually say muskrats had dug below the fence. She merely said that they might have.”

  “She lied about Blind William’s ram.”

  Flanna felt a soft wave of nostalgia as she remembered their daughter as a small energetic lass with too big a heart and too wide a reach. “She didna say the foolish ram had eaten too many bluebells, just that twas a possibility. In truth, she was just trying to save poor William some effort. If the wool was dyed aforehand, twould save a step in the cloth-making process.”

  “Heaven’s wrath, wife!” Roderic swore. “Tis not your place to defend her. Tis mine.”

  “I’m rather enjoying the chance,” she said. “Mayhap ye are making too much of this.”

  “Too much of this! We are not speaking of a stinky ram or Bethia’s long-suffering kitchen garden. We are speaking of our daughter’s virtue.”

  “And ye think she would compromise that?” Flanna asked softly. “Ye think she would when there was a chance of hurting ye?” She drew him gently nearer. “The man she has adored since the very day of her birth. The man who took one look at her wee face all squashed and purple, and proclaimed her the fairest flower in all the world.”

  “Twas not squashed and purple,” he murmured. “Twas lovely beyond words. Her mother’s daughter.”

  “The man who would say things like that,” she said. Turning his hand over, Flanna kissed his fingertips, his palm and his wrist. Roderic drew a slow breath.

  “The man whom she loves above all others,” she added.

  “Our wee lass is growing up. Growing away from us,” he said.

  “Nay, never away from her sire,” she argued, and tugged at his belt until it came loose. His plaid fell away in heavy, woolen folds, exposing the hard evidence of her effect on him. She kissed his neck as she loosened his cat-face brooch. “Never away from the Rogue. She would not do that, and hence she would not chance hurting ye by fornicating right under our noses.”

  He sighed.

  “Unless…” She smiled mischievously with her grin hidden against his neck. “Unless this Dugald the Dragon is as spectacular as his name implies.”

  “Gawd’s wrath!” Roderic snarled. “I’ve decided. I’m going to have him skewered and—”

  “Now?” She could not help chuckling as she slipped her hand down his body to his obvious arousal.

  Roderic cleared his throat as her fingers settled gently over him. “Right now,” he said, but his tone was softer.

  She stroked him gently. “But couldn’t it await the morn? After all, I’ve done nothing wrong, husband. Tis no reason I should suffer a dearth of your company because of this night’s foul events.”

  She watched his head fall back slightly as she stroked him. His flaxen hair brushed the great strength of his shoulders as his body tensed. “Ye are right, I suppose,” he groaned. “Mayhap the punishment will be all the worse if he has to wait to receive it.”

  “Aye,” she whispered. “And mayhap our pleasure shall be all the greater.”

  Shona sat up with a start. Flanna couldn’t help but notice she looked rather pale.

  “Mother!” she said, her voice raspy with sleep. “I…” She shifted her gaze to the closed door as if wondering if her father would be barging in at any moment. “What might ye be doing here?” she asked.

  The sweetness in her voice could have kept her usual gaggle of swains woozy for a month.

  There was not a soul in all of Christendom that could cause more trouble yet look more innocent than Roderic�
��s headstrong daughter.

  “I fear ye well know why I’ve come,” Flanna said, keeping her tone absolutely level, and hoping she herself could play the actress half so well as her daughter. She was taking a huge gamble here, she knew, but two facts stood clearly out in her mind. Shona had accepted blame for the situation, and even more important, Kinnaird had vowed to protect her. True, Flanna knew little of the man with the eerie eyes and the seductive smile. But she knew one thing—only a fool or a hero would stand up against Roderic the Rogue—and Dugald was no man’s fool, of that she was certain. “Tis a matter of grave import,” she said, warming to her task. “Indeed, a man’s very life depends on your answers.”

  “A man’s life?” Shona’s emerald eyes opened even wider, seeming to swallow her face.

  “I have never seen your father so angry,” Flanna said, and fidgeted as she seated herself beside Shona. “So ye must tell me the truth. Did the lad called Dugald disgrace ye?”

  “Disgrace me?” Shona fiddled suddenly with her blanket, scrunching it in her hands. “Nay, Mother, he—”

  “Shona!” Flanna interrupted sharply. Her daughter—a master at the game of words. “Today ye must tell me the absolute truth. Did ye fornicate with this Dugald Kinnaird?”

  Shona’s mouth fell open slightly and her cheeks turned pink. Flanna silently congratulated herself. It was not so simple a task to shock her daughter. But she seemed to have succeeded.

  “Nay! I did not.”

  Flanna let out a great gust of air and allowed her body to slump slightly as if she might swoon with relief. “I canna tell ye how happy I am to hear that. That is to say…” She rose quickly to pace the narrow room. “Tis a well known fact that your father adores ye, and true, tis his job to see that your virtue is safe, but emasculation…”

  “Emasculation!”

  Flanna turned toward Shona. She had thought the lass pale before, now her nightrail looked dark by comparison.

  “I dunna think he deserves that even if—” Flanna began, but Shona interrupted her.

  “Emasculation!” she squeaked again.

  “Listen daughter,” Flanna said, hurrying back to sink onto the girl’s bed. “I can understand how ye might find the man desirable. After all, he is quite a spectacular specimen, and your father told me how he was willing to defend ye even knowing Roderic’s reputation with a sword. But ye must be a realist.”

  “A realist?”

  Flanna nodded earnestly and reached for Shona’s hand with both of her own. “Certainly we want ye to be happy, Daughter, to find an agreeable husband. But this Dugald…” She paused.

  Shona scowled, creasing a single line in her fair brow. “I dunna know what ye are saying.”

  “Ye are a MacGowan, Daughter. The blood of kings flows through your veins. France’s kings, plus our own. Ye canna wed this Dugald.”

  “Wed him! I have no intention of wedding him. I dunna even like him.”

  “Nay?” Flanna tightened her grasp on her daughter’s hand. “Truly? Then why were ye in his room?”

  Shona’s cheeks turned pink again. “Tis rather a long tale, I fear.”

  Flanna smiled. “Ye are, after all, the daughter of the Rogue. I would expect nothing less than a lengthy tale.”

  “I, ahh…I was sleeping.”

  Flanna nodded.

  “A noise awakened me. I worried for Kelvin, so I rushed into the hall to see what had caused the stir. I thought I saw a shadow moving, so I followed it. Then I lost it. So I thought…” She scowled as if trying to remember. “I thought I would look in the stable.”

  Flanna forced herself not to rattle some sense into her daughter. Why was it that Roderic’s children would never consider not following a malevolent shadow? “And then?”

  Shona cleared her throat. “I went up the ladder to the barracks. But…” She paused.

  “But what?”

  Shona looked baffled, as if she couldn’t remember the night’s events, but in a moment she shrugged. “Did ye know Kinnaird is sleeping above the stable?”

  “Nay, I didna,” Flame said, then waited to the count of fifteen for her daughter to continue.

  “Might I ask how ye ended up on the floor with him?”

  Shona scowled. “He was most rude. Asked me what I was doing there.”

  “Shocking!”

  “I thought so. I told him the truth, but he didna believe me.”

  “Humph. And so?”

  “So I decided to leave, but he grabbed my arm. He said he only wanted to escort me, but I dunna trust him.”

  “Indeed?”

  Shona leaned forward, warming to her story. “Where was he when I arrived, that’s what I wish to know. And what about during the footraces? I have my suspicions about him.”

  “Such as?”

  “I believe tis he who tried to assassinate the king.”

  Flanna sat in dumbfounded disbelief. She knew Shona as well as anyone in the world, and yet even she could not guess how her daughter had taken such a giant leap of fancy.

  “Tis quite a serious accusation, Shona.”

  “I know, but—”

  “And I thought ye had defended him to your father. In fact, he said ye took the blame for the entire incident.”

  Shona’s face scrunched up, reminding Flanna nostalgically of her daughter’s sorry excuses during her childhood. “I had no wish to see the man killed.”

  “Truly?”

  “Of course not. That is to say, not until his treasonous plans are revealed.”

  “Then ye have no feelings for him. No hopes of marrying him.”

  “Certainly not!”

  Flanna sighed. “I am quite relieved to hear that. For tis time to give some serious thought to marriage. Your father and I still believe the laird of Atberry might be a fine choice.”

  “William?”

  “Ye have no objections to him, do ye? He seems a good man. And surely ye canna complain about his appearance. He’s quite attractive, don’t ye think?”

  “Aye.” She said the word slowly.

  “And of course…” Flanna leaned closer. “He is the King’s cousin. If, God forbid, something should happen to His Majesty, tis possible that some day William himself might become King of all Scotland.”

  “Nothing will happen to the King,” Shona said, her face utterly serious.

  “I pray ye are right,” Flanna said. “Still, twould surely be advantageous to be married to his cousin. I shall let ye sleep now. And worry not, daughter, I will speak to Roderic on your behalf.”

  She rose to her feet and turned away.

  “Mother?”

  “Aye?” Flanna glanced over her shoulder, her hand on the door latch.

  “Would ye be happier if ye had married a cousin to the King?”

  Flanna laughed. “I married the Rogue, Daughter. The Rogue, who makes jokes at the most inopportune of times, who drives me to distraction, who weaves tales so outlandish that only an imbecile would believe them. Whose smile lights the heaven.” She sighed. “Aye, I could have married a more noble man, a wealthier man, but Roderic’s very voice thrills me, and when he touches me…” She let her voice trail off then started as if just now remembering her daughter’s presence. “But we are not speaking of me, Shona. We are talking of ye. And surely ye are far too fine a lady to be married off to some foreign lad who has nothing more than devilish good looks and more boldness than is good for him.

  “Indeed, Daughter, if the truth be known, the Dragon reminds me a bit of the Rogue, and goodness knows ye are too much like your father to marry someone of the same ilk. Nay, lass. Tis a solid man of position ye need, Shona, and ye are wise to know it,” Flanna said, and lifting the door latch, stepped into the hall with a smile.

  Chapter 10

  Despite her attempts, Shona couldn’t get back to sleep, for worry tormented her. Finally, nervous and confused, she dressed in the simple gown she had worn on the previous day and slipped out of her room.

  One glance told her
that Kelvin and the other boys were still fast asleep, as was most of the castle. Finding the spiral stone stairs that led to the parapet, she lifted her skirts and hurried up them, her feet still bare and her hair loose.

  From the top of the tower, the world seemed brand new and rosy pink. The day was dawning clear and cool with a fresh breeze that trickled through her hair and caressed her cheeks.

  Below her the earth rolled away in gray-green hills and dales that were as familiar to her as her own hands. The view should have soothed her, but it did not, for uncertainty tormented her.

  Her sleep had been fitful at best. Not only had it been interrupted by the shadowy no one outside her door, but her head hurt as if she had somehow struck it on something hard. She scowled, trying to recall the events of the night, but her first clear memory after leaving the hall was that of Dugald leaning over her.

  What had possessed her to allow him to touch her? For indeed, it had seemed as if she had been possessed by a force more powerful than herself.

  What strange manner of garment had Dugald been wearing? And why, beneath that garment, had his chest felt as solid as tempered steel, instead of soft and flabby, as a wastrel’s chest should? She remembered touching his skin, remembered the hot flash of feeling, the sharp loss of control, the desire so intense it all but overwhelmed her. Indeed, she had remembered those things even in her dreams.

  Shona scowled across the Gael Burn, barely noticing the rushing water that cascaded over itself in its flight to the sea.

  She had kissed him—wildly, foolishly. She had nearly given up her virginity to him. But that didn’t mean she liked him. She hadn’t lied to her mother. Hardly that. The man irritated her no end. But something had come over her. She had been temporarily hexed, bewitched. She glanced pensively down at the amulet that lay nestled between her breasts. It felt cool this morning, and light. But last night it had seemed the opposite, heavy and hot as if it were urging her into Dugald’s arms. Or had her own emotions made it seem so?

  “A bonny morn.”

  Shona jumped nervously and spun toward the speaker.

  “Magnus!” she said, spying the ancient toy maker where he sat atop the parapet some fifty feet away.