Highland Hawk: Highland Brides #7

by Lois Greiman

  Tucking into a ball, she spun into the air and landed on the dais only inches from the startled boy. The mugs fell into her hands like autumn apples. The crowd let out a single gasp of surprise and burst into applause.

  Catriona bowed. “Your mead, Majesty,” she said, and handed James the mug.

  He gazed into it with wide eyes. ” ‘Tis full!” he gasped. The crowd echoed his shock.

  Catriona smiled as she lifted her own mug to her lips, but at that moment a flash of movement caught her attention. She lifted her gaze to the back of the room only to see Lord Drummond escort Fayette from the hall.

  ‘Twas nothing extraordinary about it. And yet, there was something about the way the two moved that sent a shiver of something down her spine. Where were they bound? Why leave now, when all the others were distracted?

  “The mug was empty when you threw it, was it not, Sir Hawk?” James asked.

  “Aye, it was.”

  “Impossible!” someone said.

  Voices buzzed around her, but all her attention was focused on the distant door as she hurried through the crowd. A few questions and awed comments came her way, but they let her pass until finally she reached for the door. The hallway was empty.

  Voices to her right. She spun toward them, rushed around the corner, and careened to a halt.

  ” ‘Tis none of your affair, MacKinnon,” said Lord Drummond, his dark eyes angry, his grip tight on Fayette’s arm as she cowered against the wall. “The lady wishes to spend some time alone with me.” He pressed closer to her, his gaze not leaving MacKinnon. “Don’t you?”

  She didn’t speak, but her eyes were wide, her face ashen.

  “Is it true, lady?” MacKinnon’s voice was low.

  Fayette opened her mouth, but Drummond tightened his grip on her arm.

  “If you care not for your own well-being, then think of his,” he snarled.

  Silence echoed in the hallway.

  “Release her,” MacKinnon demanded.

  “Who will make me? Her husband? But wait.” Drummond’s eyes narrowed. “She is not wed. Not to a single one of the bastards she has bedded. ‘Tis a wanton she is. Free for the taking and therefore—” he began, but in that moment MacKinnon charged.

  His roar of rage echoed against the stones, his fist struck Drummond’s ear. The dark lord was slammed against the wall, and Fayette, finally set free, spun out of his grip with a shriek of terror.

  Chapter 28

  “Cat!” Haydan roared and pushing past the crowd that milled through the doorway, he leapt toward the source of the scream. Down the hallway, around the corner.

  She was there, standing well out of harm’s way. One glance told him that, freeing his attention to the two men who were locked in battle.

  MacKinnon slammed his forehead against Drummond’s nose. The dark lord screamed and stumbled back. MacKinnon leapt in, but Drummond sidestepped and swung. His knuckles grazed MacKinnon’s jaw. He was knocked hard against the wall, but in a moment he was up. Rocking unsteadily on his feet, he stumbled toward Drummond. The dark lord swung, making a solid connection with MacKinnon’s face and drawing back again.

  “Samuel!” Fayette screamed, and at the sound of her voice, something seemed to spur through MacKinnon.

  Gathering his balance, he lunged toward Drummond and swung in two rapid, solid hits.

  Drummond tottered backward and MacKinnon leapt in with a snarl. But in that instant, Drummond pulled a knife and straightened, effectively stopping MacKinnon’s rush.

  The crowd gasped.

  Fayette whimpered.

  Haydan shifted his gaze to her. Her sleeve was torn and her tears were for MacKinnon, that much was certain.

  “Stop them,” someone rasped, but in Haydan’s mind, he saw Catriona in the same position. Terrified and hurting, awaiting a hero.

  “Drop the blade, Drummond,” Haydan said.

  The dark baron only laughed as he circled his smaller prey.

  MacKinnon moved with him, his gaze never leaving the knife.

  “Drop the blade,” Haydan repeated, and bending slightly, pulled his own dirk from his boot. “Or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

  Drummond paused and shifted his gaze sideways, but in that instant, MacKinnon launched forward.

  His blow pistoned Drummond against the wall. The knife sailed upward, struck the wall, and fell harmlessly to the floor.

  MacKinnon struck again and again, and finally Drummond slipped helplessly to the floor.

  “Samuel.” Fayette stepped forward, her voice weak.

  MacKinnon shifted his gaze to her for a moment, and then, like a drunken soldier, he stumbled through the crowd and away.

  Haydan turned toward Cat, but she stood with her back against the wall, her eyes wide with horror as she stared past Drummond.

  “What is it?” he rasped, reaching for her.

  She said nothing. Faces blurred as he skimmed his gaze over the crowd. Lord Spectacles looked sick. Tremayne outraged. Father Matthew crossed himself, and Hogshead looked giddy with drink or incoherence as he fingered his own jeweled knife before slipping it back beneath his doublet.

  “Catriona,” Haydan said, rushing his gaze back to her as a trio of woman assisted Fayette through the crowd toward her chambers. “What’s wrong?”

  ” ‘Tis naught,” she rasped, and jerked her gaze to his.

  He gritted the word. “You looked as if you might faint.”

  ” ‘Tis just…‘Tis just… memories,” she whispered, and then her knees buckled, spilling her against him.

  He wrapped an arm about her, steadying her as he guided her toward the door. But once outside, he could no longer resist lifting her against his chest. She slipped her arms about his neck and let her head fall against his shoulder. His heart ached at the impact, but he did not stop until he reached his room.

  Depositing her gently on the bed, Haydan drew away, but she whimpered and reached for him, and he could not resist. Stretching out beside her, he pulled her back into his arms. She wriggled closer, pressing her face against his chest, as he stroked her hair.

  “All is well, lass. You are safe with me. Sleep now.”

  But she did not sleep. Instead, she lifted her face and touched her lips to his.

  Her kiss was tremulous, needy, her cheek warm as sunlight beneath his hand. She moaned against the caress and tugged at his shirt. There were no words spoken, no requests made. But somehow he was soon naked, as was she.

  Their joining was peaceful, slow, building gradually. Satiation came in a rush of color and feelings, until finally she fell asleep, cradled in his arms.

  Haydan lay silently in the darkness, listening to each soft breath. Her head was nestled on his arm, her hand soft against his chest, and at each point of contact, he burned with want.

  But ‘twas no longer a lust for her body, no longer a need to feel her beside him, near him, around him. It was a lust for truth that plagued him, for she had lied to him again. He knew it in his soul, in each aching breath he took when he was near her.

  She had seen something in the hallway that had frightened her. The battle between MacKinnon and Drummond may well have terrified some women, especially if they had been in similar situations as Lady Fayette. But that was not the case here. He was certain of it.

  Something had snared her attention, something horrifying. But what?

  He did not know. But he would. That, he vowed.

  It was nearing dawn when Haydan escorted Catriona down the dark hallway. Galloway started; then stared in open-mouthed shock when they rounded the corner toward her room.

  Haydan scowled as he opened the door to let her inside. Their gazes met for a moment, and then she raised on her toes to kiss him. Heat spurred through him like forked lightning.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, and then she drew away, stepping into her room. Two greenfinches fluttered momentarily into view and then the door closed.

  Galloway was still staring, his eyes as wide as brownstone
boulders.

  “She fell asleep in the stable,” Haydan said, improvising poorly. “With her steed.”

  Galloway’s stare never wavered.

  “I found her there when…” His mind bumbled hopelessly. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to follow her into her room. To take her in his arms again and make her believe that all would be right if she but trusted him. “I found her when I went to check the mare.” A grown man should be able to lie better than that.

  “She seemed most grateful, sir.”

  Haydan scowled. “Aye,” he said, “Her mount was just about to trample her, and now that you understand her gratitude, there’ll be no gossip about this, will there?”

  “Nay, sir.”

  “Good. Now find your bed.”

  “But—”

  “Your bed,” Haydan interrupted. “I’ll guard her door for the remainder of the night.”

  And so he did, though he knew there was little purpose to it. If she wished to leave, she would find another route. He could only hope she did not wish it, and he suspected that she would not tonight, so he slept for a time, wrapped in his cape outside her door.

  Catriona skimmed her gaze over the crowd in the great hall. Lord Drummond was nowhere to be seen. He was in the infirmary. She knew that. Indeed, she had seen it for herself, for ‘twas there she had gone to filch his key while he slept.

  MacKinnon sat alone, his face bruised and swollen, his meal already finished. Lady Fayette was accompanied by a serving woman, and young Roberta of Perth had already been hastily rushed out of Drummond’s life forever.

  “I would see to James’s well-being,” Haydan said, bending down as she seated herself on a bench. “You will be well?”

  Flippancy? Concern? Laughter? She could no longer remember how to act. What had her last lie been?

  “Aye. Certainly. I will be fine.”

  Haydan watched her for a moment, then finally turned to make his way toward the king.

  There was little time to waste.

  Slipping from her chair, Catriona moved through the hall.

  “Lady Fayette.”

  “Aye.” The woman glanced up, a handsome woman with haunted eyes.

  “Might I speak to you for a moment?”

  Fayette frowned. “I—”

  “Please.”

  At her mistress’s nod, her serving maid scurried away.

  Catriona sat down beside her. “I wished to extend my sympathies for…” She drew a deep breath and glanced toward Haydan. He was leaning low, speaking with James. “For Lord Drummond’s actions.”

  Fayette fiddled with her mug. ” ‘Twas my own fault.”

  “Nay!”

  Fayette glanced up at the sharp tone. “In truth, Lady Cat, you know little of me.” She pursed her lips, fiddled with her mug again and let her gaze flicker away. “Since my husband’s death…” She paused and drew a deep breath. “He was very religious. Some thought him a good man. But in truth, ‘tis amazing what atrocities can be done in the name of God.” Pain haunted her eyes. “Mayhap he hated me because I could not bear children. ‘Twas the Lord’s punishment on me, he said. Still, he felt it important to help out the Almighty in that regard.” She tried a smile but it was weak and tremulous. “And I thought… Perhaps I thought to pay him back for some of the evil. And so, since his death, I have sought unlikely men—to shock him perhaps. Or maybe ‘tis another I seek to shock.” She glanced briefly toward MacKinnon. “I can hardly blame Drummond if he thought me—”

  “I do not care,” Catriona said.

  Fayette’s lips parted.

  “I am Rom and I am beautiful,” Cat said. “All my life, men have found that reason enough to blame their actions on me. But ‘tis all muck and I’ve no wish to hear it from your lips. Drummond’s sins are Drummond’s sins, and not yours to atone for. In truth, I would not care if he stayed under Physic’s kind ministrations until Yuletide.”

  A hint of a smile lifted Fayette’s lips. “I myself hope he had a most miserable night.”

  Catriona glanced toward Haydan again, her heart thumping. “And what of MacKinnon?”

  Fayette cleared her throat and glanced away. “He has two wee, bonny daughters. Did you know that?”

  “He told me.”

  “Aye. He would.” She drew a deep breath. “After his wife’s death I stayed with them for a time. He has a good soul. For a while I thought he might care, but…” She stopped. “Whatever he thought, I fear my recent actions have pushed him away.”

  “It may be that he too has done things that give him no pride. It could well be that he has feelings for you.”

  “In truth, Lady Cat…” She fiddled with her mug. “I all but threw myself at him once upon a time. You might very well be shocked.”

  She almost smiled, but there was no time. “I rather doubt it. Am I to understand that he did not respond to your overtures?” she asked and glanced at Hawk. He was already rising from his seat.

  “He has barely glanced at me since—”

  ” ‘Tis because he cannot.”

  “What?”

  “Since his wife’s infidelity, he believes he cannot… respond. He had no wish to embarrass himself or you.”

  Fayette’s eyes were wide. “How do you know this?”

  “I am Rom. You would be surprised what people tell me.”

  “Then do you think he might care…? But no. I—”

  “He does seem like the hot-headed sort.”

  Fayette stared in bewilderment.

  “Prone to starting fights with men larger than himself,” Catriona continued; then paused. “Or perhaps he could not help himself because of his feelings for you.”

  Fayette turned her gaze toward MacKinnon, her eyes filled with tears.

  “Go to him,” Catriona said. “Take him to your room to talk in private, away from memories of Drummond. Tell him what you have told me.”

  For a moment, Catriona feared that her entire plan would crumble like a house of sticks before her eyes. But finally Fayette stood and then she was gone, weaving through the crowd toward MacKinnon.

  One more glance toward Haydan, then Cat was gone too, striding toward Drummond’s abandoned room.

  In a few minutes she was inside. The gargoyle turned beneath her hand. The secret drawer slid out, and in a moment Drummond’s medallion was in her hand.

  Breathless and determined, she dropped it into her pouch and yanked the door open.

  “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

  She had known he’d find her. Still, she almost screamed from sheer nerves.

  He glanced sideways and pulled her into the hall.

  “I found it.” It took no acting ability to make her voice breathless.

  “What?” He scowled down at her.

  “I found it. The medallion. ‘Twas Drummond’s,” she whispered. Her hands were shaky, her heart too forceful in her cramped chest. ” ‘Twas he who took it from Blackheart in the first place.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Blackheart said ‘twas a brigand who seized it, and when I saw Drummond’s evil revealed…” She shook her head, breathless. “Now I can fetch Lachlan.”

  “Nay!” he snapped.

  She jumped like a startled lark.

  He softened his voice and loosened his hands on her arms. “We have discussed this before, Catriona. ‘Tis I who shall go.”

  “But Blackheart—”

  “Is concerned only with the jewels,” Haydan interrupted. “I will deliver the medallion to him.”

  “But what if—”

  “I will return the lad safely to you. This I promise.”

  It was all a sham, a ploy to get him safely out of the way, yet hearing the words said aloud made her knees feel weak, her head light.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Aye,” he said. “The task is mine to do. I leave before dark.”

  “Tomorrow is James’s birthday.”

  “Aye. And soon Lachla
n will help him celebrate.”

  Chapter 29

  “And when you see our face all will be worth the sacrifice.”

  Catriona hunkered closer to the trunk of the tree in which she hid. The festivities had begun in earnest early this morn. Marta had ridden Bay from the castle the night before, then returned afoot at dawn after the guards had changed. Amid the chaos of the celebration no one questioned her coming or going. No one suspected that the gelding was hidden deep in the woods, and with Hawk gone it had been simple enough for Catriona to slip unnoticed from the castle. Beneath her gown, she had donned a tunic and brown hose. ‘Twas that which she wore now as she perched high above the forest floor.

  Beneath her, on the rusty ribbon of road that spooled through the glen, the sound of horse hooves echoed up. She tensed, but ‘twas naught but a pair of servants driving an empty wagon toward Burnsvale.

  Catriona closed her eyes and prayed. Blackheart would come. He must come. ‘Twas power he lusted for. He had been there to deliver her horrid sentence; surely he would be there to see it carried out. Surely he would be there to see the king delivered. Thus, he had to leave the castle today.

  But what if someone had seen her turn into the woods and came to investigate? What if—

  Something crackled near her ear. Catriona jumped, nearly losing her grip on the branch that supported her. But the noise was nothing more fearsome than a pair of squabbling birds.

  Birds!

  Calum flittered to her shoulder, perfectly at home high above the forest floor. Somehow her finches had followed her. What if Blackheart recognized them?

  But nay, even if he saw them he would think nothing of a pair of harmless birds. He was too sure of himself, too certain.

  Catriona huddled closer to her tree and redoubled her prayers.

  The hours droned away. Folks came and went. Worry gnawed at her. Terror ripped at her. Perhaps she had guessed wrong. Perhaps Blackheart would not come this way. Perhaps…

  And then, far away near Blackburn’s bridge, she saw a lone rider. A shiver of apprehension shook her, and she held her breath, waiting. Closer and closer he rode until finally, after a hopeless eternity, she could see his face.