Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides)

by Greiman, Lois

  “Ye are so late for the festivities,” she said, still holding him close. “What delayed ye?”

  “Nothing of consequence, lass,” he assured her.

  A tiny bit of peace stole into her soul, soothing her. She was united with Liam and her cousins.

  All would be well.

  But in a moment she felt Liam tense.

  “Shona, you’re shaking. What is amiss?” he asked, and pressed her to arms’ length. But once there, his jaw dropped. “God’s balls, lass, what the devil happened to your face?”

  Blunt. Liam had always been blunt. Maybe his tactlessness should have offended her. Instead, it did the opposite, for in his eyes she saw no horror, no astonished sorrow, and suddenly her wounds did not seem so hideous.

  “Have ye been riding the black bull again?”

  She shook her head and laughed out loud.

  “Using your embroidery needles for darts? Going down the burn in a barrel?”

  “Nay.”

  “Then what the hell have ye done to yourself this time?”

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Kelvin said, stepping up beside her.

  Liam looked down into the boy’s face. “It never is, lad. But look at ye. Ye’re a good stone heavier than when I first met ye. It seems our Shona has at least been seeing to your care.”

  “Who are ye to be judging her?” Kelvin asked with anger in his voice.

  Shona caught her breath. “Surely ye remember Liam. Ye met him en route to Stirling, when ye first went to meet the king,” she said, catching the boy’s gaze.

  Kelvin blinked. She saw wariness cross his face before he raised his chin and cocked his head.

  “Of course I remember. I simply dunna think such a rogue as this Irishman has the right to find fault with a lady like yourself. Especially when ye are wounded.”

  “Wounded!” Liam said. “It looks as if she has been offering her face for target practice.”

  “Damn you! I’ll not have ye tormenting the lady,” Stanford said, striding forward.

  “Oh, shut up,” Hadwin said, and reaching up from the bench where he sat, pulled the lanky man down beside him. “Have a drink.” He pushed his own mug in front of the other. “And for God’s sake, relax. The maid has had a hard enough time as it is.”

  “Tis not my fault,” Stanford said, affronted.

  “Well…” Hadwin took back the mug for another long swig, before pressing it into the other man’s hands again. “Not as much as it is m—”

  “Hadwin.” William approached his cousin from the right. “I just received word from my sheriff.

  I will have to curtail my stay here. We will need to prepare to leave.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Immediately. Tell Pith to see to the packing.”

  From the corner of the hall, Dugald watched Hadwin stumble drunkenly to his feet. What had he been about to say? Stanford was not as much to blame for Shona’s hardships as who?

  And what of Kelvin? Had he not recognized Liam? If not, why? The lad was as clever as a snake; surely he would recognize this loud Irish rogue.

  There were a thousand things afoot here—Liam’s arrival, Kelvin’s slippery memory, Shona’s broken vows.

  Dugald almost smiled. So she had sent William packing. Oh yes, Dugald knew. Though no one else had yet been informed, he had heard much of the conversation, for he had been perched just outside her shutters.

  Aye, William was being forced to leave. Thus if he was the one planning the king’s death, at least he would not have the help of the MacGowans.

  “Ye should return to your bed, Shona,” Rachel said. “Hardly are ye healed.”

  “Her bed?” Liam laughed. “Far be it from our Shona to need rest. I have just arrived.”

  “And are as likely as not to make her ill even when she has her full strength,” Rachel said.

  “With ye here, she—”

  “Please,” Shona said, lifting a hand. “Could we not have peace this day?” Rachel opened her mouth, and Liam looked as if he were sulking. “The four of us are reunited. Surely ye dunna wish to wound Dragonheart by your bickering.”

  Sara laughed, Rachel smiled, and Liam, looking chagrined, nodded.

  “Peace, then,” he said. “Might we find somewhere quiet to talk?”

  Rachel glanced at Shona, her amethyst eyes unearthly bright. “The solar should be a fine place,”

  she said, “empty but for William’s drowned dreams, I suspect.”

  Dugald watched Shona turn toward her, and though he could not hear much of what she said, he clearly made out the word “eerie.”

  Rachel laughed, and Dugald prepared for another night of spying.

  “Did William accept your change of heart with good grace?” Rachel asked.

  The solar was lit with a trio of candles set on an iron candelabrum and the presence of three of the people Shona loved most in the world.

  “Change of heart?” Liam asked, just closing the door behind him. “What’s this?”

  “Our Shona was betrothed,” Sara said.

  “Betrothed!” Liam looked at her aghast. “To whom?”

  “To the same man she just became unbetrothed to,” Rachel said. “Your hopes can remain alive, Liam.”

  “Well, I should think so,” Liam said, turning to take Shona’s hand in his own. “What’s this I hear? Ye were planning to marry another?”

  She smiled at him. Long ago, she had vowed to marry Liam. Twas a dream that was not to be. A modicum of maturity had told her that. Even if her parents would allow it, even if he were not entirely too much like herself to be trusted, even if he weren’t a rogue and a vagabond and a wandering magician, he was not the sort to marry. He was always slightly discontented, and though he pretended otherwise, he was forever somewhat distracted, at least when he was around her.

  Liam the Irishman, most people called him, as quick with his mind as he was with his fingers.

  He had been a scrawny thief and a prankster in the raucous border town of Firthport when Shona’s aunt had first met him. Supposedly he had been rehabilitated when Tara and Roman brought him to the Highlands, but if the truth be known, Shona doubted Liam would ever change. In his heart he was no more tamed than the wild hills they called home.

  “Ye failed to ask me to marry ye, Liam,” she said. “Tis a prerequisite to the wedding vows.

  William thought to ask.”

  “William of Atberry?” he asked, his tone surprised.

  “Aye, the same.”

  “Ye were planning to wed William of Atberry?”

  Shona straightened her back. “He is of good family.”

  “Aye,” Liam scoffed. “But so is King Henry. It does not mean that I would wed him.”

  Shona scowled. “I had no idea ye were planning to marry a man atall. Besides, Henry is English, and has a rather disturbing habit of being rid of those he dislikes.”

  “And ye think William would be better?”

  All three cousins turned toward him.

  “What do ye mean by that?” Rachel asked, her tone utterly somber suddenly.

  Liam shrugged. “I dunna know. It just seems that ye are close enough to the royalty already, Shona, what with your friendship to the young king. The MacGowans are not in such need of power that they would marry off their fairest flower to the old king’s nephew. After the last attempt on your James’s life, Lord Tremayne and the others are intent on pinning the blame on someone. It seems the further ye are from that intrigue, the better.”

  Shona tried not to show her tension. This entire group was known to be a bit meddlesome, while Rachel was downright spooky.

  “I fear my reasons for breaking off the betrothal were less practical than that,” Shona said.

  “He did not worship ye as he should?” Liam asked.

  His question was too similar to William’s to give her comfort. She gave Liam a sneer. “He had a big nose.”

  Liam laughed. “With your face battered like a squashed turnip, he may be glad
to be rid of ye.”

  She would have liked to tell him that he was miles from the truth, but there was little point in lying to this group. “I suppose I would frighten a rock just now.”

  Liam’s eyes opened wide as he stared at her. “Ye are serious?” he asked, laughter in his voice.

  “He was offended by your wounds?”

  She shrugged. “He was quite noble about it. Said he was an honorable man and would marry me nevertheless.”

  “He’s more of an ass than I suspected.”

  Rachel stepped forward. Shona turned her gaze to her and noticed with some misgivings that her eyes held that eerie light they sometimes did. It was a bad omen. She was thinking things she shouldn’t be thinking, guessing things she shouldn’t be guessing, meddling in other people’s minds.

  “In truth,” Rachel said, reaching out to touch Shona’s cheek with gentle fingertips, “he was no worse than I expected. I suppose tis time to reduce the swelling and see to your healing now.”

  The room went silent.

  “What?” Shona asked quietly.

  Rachel shrugged. Perhaps it was always her ladylike demeanor that made Shona forget her mischievous side. “I did not think it would do any harm if I allowed your wounds to look their most colorfully hideous for a few days.”

  “Ye mean to say ye purposefully did nothing to heal them?” Shona asked, appalled.

  “Not atall,” Rachel countered. “I made certain they did not turn septic while I purposefully made them look worse.”

  “Rachel!” Shona exclaimed. “How could ye?”

  “I didna like that William fellow,” Rachel said, and flippantly pattered toward the window to let in the night air. For a moment the shutter caught, seemingly on a bit of rust, but soon it swung free.

  She turned back to her friends with a shrug. “I had a bad feeling about him.”

  “And it turns out she was right,” Sara said. “Any man who would leave ye because of a few wee bruises does not have the fortitude ye need in a mate.”

  “A few wee bruises!” Shona cried, knowing she had thought much the same thing herself, but certain she had a right to be indignant nevertheless. “Yesterday I scared Maggie’s wolf when I but glanced at him.”

  “He is not a wolf,” Sara argued, looking offended.

  “I would not allow my daughter to wander about with a wolf.”

  Shona snorted. “Ye are just as bad as Rachel,” she said. “The two of ye acting like fine, swooning damsels when underneath it all ye are a pair of conniving rats.”

  “Rats who saved ye from a frightful marriage,” Rachel said.

  “Rats who will make it so that my father marries me off to someone as fat as King Henry but lacks the charm.”

  “Oh, aye,” Liam said. “Roderic has always been the sort to torture his only daughter just for sport.”

  “Whenever he can unwind himself from your little finger.”

  Shona scowled at them all in turn. Being the youngest in this group had always been trying.

  Despite her momentous strides at reaching maturity, they would forever see her as a child.

  “I’ll have ye know that I am not atall the spoiled lass ye once thought me.”

  “Nay?” Rachel asked.

  “Nay. I have a child to look after now.”

  “Kelvin!” Liam said suddenly. “That reminds me, I have a missive from the Hawk for ye.”

  “From Hawk?” Shona asked, hurrying toward him. “Liam, how could ye forget? We were just speaking of the king.”

  Liam lifted his pouch and pulled out a rolled parchment. Shona reached for it, but he pulled it beyond her grasp.

  “If the truth be known, I thought it best to wait to give it to ye, for it looked as if ye had worries enough when I first saw ye.”

  “Liam!” She scowled at him. “This is not a game we play here. This probably concerns the king himself.”

  “My point exactly,” Liam said, scowling back. “I dunna think it wise to get too involved in that intrigue. I tell ye, the people that surround young James are looking for heads to adorn the pikes atop Stirling Castle’s turrets. Never is a man more secure than when he captures the king’s would-be assassin.”

  “Are ye saying they might accuse me of trying to murder the king?”

  “I am saying ye should watch your back, Shona. What say ye, Rachel?” he asked, turning to the healer. “Is she hale enough to read this missive?”

  “Ye think there is some way to keep it from her, now that she knows about it?” Rachel asked.

  “I could turn her into a toad.”

  “Ye would be lucky to turn a toad into a toad,” Rachel countered. “Give her the note, before she decides to beat ye senseless.”

  “Ye’ve always had a way of making a man feel like a man.”

  “That would take a man to begin with.”

  “Cease!” Shona demanded. “And give me the letter, Liam.”

  He handed it over with a grin.

  Shona broke the seal quickly, but suddenly there were three people looking over her shoulder.

  “Have ye no shame?” she asked, rolling the parchment to glare at them. “Tis a private letter to me.”

  “What could the Hawk possibly say that he would not want us to know?” Rachel asked.

  “Mayhap tis of a personal nature,” Sara said. “Mayhap she and the Hawk share something they dunna want us privy to.”

  “Shona!” Liam chided. “He is your mother’s half-brother. What are ye thinking? Twill never work. Even now I can hear the Pope crying consanguinity.”

  “Oh, shut up, all of ye!” Shona cried.

  They drew back as a unit.

  “Testy, isn’t she?” Liam asked.

  “Mayhap she thinks herself too good for the likes of us, now that she consorts with kings and such.”

  Shona put her fingers to her temples. “You’re giving me a sore head.”

  Even Rachel laughed, but at the same time she was hustling the others from the room.

  “We will leave ye in peace for a spell, then, Shona, but I warn ye, I will return yet this night to treat your wounds.” She stopped in the doorway behind the other two. “And I dunna want any whining about the taste.”

  “I dunna whine,” Shona said, but Rachel only laughed as she shut the door.

  Shona unrolled the parchment and read quickly.

  From his hiding place where he dangled from the stone beside Shona’s window, Dugald peeked through the shutter and saw her face go pale.

  “Dear Lord,” she whispered, setting the parchment to the flame of the nearest candle, “not the queen!”

  Chapter 22

  The following morning, Shona found Kelvin just past the drawbridge on an escarpment of the Gael Burn, tossing stones in the water in a test of strength with his friends. Old Magnus sat on a tree stump crudely sawed into the shape of a chair and watched the boys play.

  “Kelvin, I need to speak to ye,” she called.

  He came at a run, his bare feet muddy and his smile wide.

  She knelt in front of him, feeling a rush of love. “I’ve had news from the Hawk.”

  The boy’s small face became somber then he glanced at the old man. Magnus’s eyes were closed and his head drooped in sleep. “The king. Is he—”

  “The king is fine. But James…” She paused for a moment, wondering how much to tell him and deciding to give him the littlest possible information for now. “King James has requested our presence.”

  They stared at each other for a silent moment.

  “When do we leave?” Kelvin asked.

  Shona smiled at him; then, rising to her feet, she put her arm around his shoulders. “I know how ye love it here in the Highlands. Ye are not too disappointed that we must leave so soon?”

  “Tis our duty,” he said solemnly. “He is, after all, our king, even if he is a mite spoiled.”

  “Aye.” She laughed a little, relieved to know he was so willing to do what he must. “He is that.

>   Hawk says His Majesty but wishes for us to help him pass the time. We will not leave until the day after tomorrow. Twill take till then to prepare our retinue for travel. For now, ye may return to your play.”

  He turned back to the stream, but his expression was somber now, a testimony to the life he had led before meeting her, the life that had taught him hardships come to all. Shona’s heart lurched, and she longed to see him smile again

  “Oh, and Kelvin,” she said.

  “Aye?”

  “The queen will be arriving at Blackburn shortly after we do.”

  His smile broke out again. “How long will she be staying?”

  “Tis difficult to say,” she said. “But ye know how she adores her son.”

  He laughed out loud. The sound was charming and bright and floated over the morning like summer clouds as he turned back to his play.

  Shona stood by the rustling burn. There were a hundred details she should see to, but just now watching Kelvin play seemed the most urgent, so she settled herself down on the bank to watch.

  After a moment, Magnus awoke with a soft snort. They sat in companionable silence for a spell, watching as the boys raced to catch a small piece of bark as it spiraled downstream.

  Soaked and laughing, Kelvin came away with it in his hands.

  “He’s a clever lad, that one,” Magnus said.

  “Kelvin?” Shona asked, turning toward the old man.

  “Aye. And kindly. Twas he who helped me out to this spot in the shade.”

  “He has a good heart,” Shona said.

  “That he does.” Silence settled in, serenaded by the sweet rustle of water. “He reminds me of someone, though I dunna know who.”

  Shona smiled gently. “I suspect he is like most young lads, though he seems special to me.”

  “They are each special, each in his own way. He adores ye, ye know.”

  “The sentiment is returned twofold.”

  “I heard the lads talking, praising your beauty,” Magnus said.

  “It must have been before 1 was tromped by a horse,” Shona responded, but when she touched her cheek she could tell the swelling was greatly reduced from the previous day. Whatever horrible concoctions Rachel had smeared on her face and forced her to drink, they must be doing the job.