Highland Angel

by Hannah Howell

  "Nay, yet one can still be shocked by what form that cruelty can take. Ye ne'er told your kinsmen?"

  "Nay. I am my husband's chattel, am I not? They could do little. And, they would be so angered they would strike out at him, so burdening them with the truth would only cost them dearly. I would gain little respite from my woes, but my family, my clan, would suffer most grievously. As I told ye, they could too easily be utterly destroyed."

  "Yet, ye seek my help. Do ye nay think I might suffer for it?"

  "Ye have the favor of those who rule. Ye have kinsmen and allies far greater than my family could e'er hope for. Ye also have a reputation for fighting on the side of the helpless. There are many reasons I could give for choosing ye, but all lead to the same conclusion. Ye will take up this cause and fight weel, with the power and allies needed to ensure it doesnae cost ye your life. My kinsmen dinnae. There is also the fact that no one kens that we have e'er met."

  Payton sat back in his chair and studied her for a moment. “Ye have been planning all of this for a while?"

  "Months,” she replied. “I might have waited e'en longer to seek ye out if I could have gotten these children away and if my husband hadnae decided I was too great a threat to him to live.” She nudged her empty plate to the side, clasped her hands upon the table, and looked at him. “So, do ye have a plan?"

  "For now, ye and the children hide here. Ye shall remain dead or run off. ‘Tis best if your husband feels he succeeded in ridding himself of ye. I shall go to the court. If there are already whispers about Sir Roderick, ones ye planted or others, I shall add to them. If there are none, I shall spread my own."

  "That is all?” she asked, even though she knew he could not simply declare Sir Roderick evil and cut him down, that one had to move cautiously.

  "For now. As I told young Callum, this could take weeks, months, e'en years. Sir Roderick must be brought low first and that could take time. We must hope he has few close friends and allies, and those he may have will step aside once the rumors and whispers begin to spread. My plan can change at any time, depending upon how many will heed the whispers that will soon swirl about the court, but the heart of it will remain the same. I will see him cut away from all support—then I will see him dead."

  "'Tis a good plan, the only one which may succeed. ‘Tis just that I seem to have no part in it at all."

  "Ye cannae. ‘Tis truly for the best if your husband continues to believe ye are dead. The moment he discovers ye still live, matters will grow more complicated, more deadly. Then we shall have to divide our time and strength between keeping ye alive and destroying him. The children, too, must be kept weel out of sight. He must ken ye are the reason they slipped his grasp—thus they, too, could be seen as a threat. If they are seen to be with me, then I lose all chance to slip about, slowly weakening him. He will suspect we work together, that ye may have told me too many of his secrets, and again, I will need to turn to defending myself and the children. Callum most certainly must be verra careful to remain unseen. Sir Roderick has already marked the lad for death. Callum may be young and untrained, but Sir Roderick already sees him as a threat."

  "I can take care of myself,” Callum snapped. “I am no bairn to be coddled."

  Payton looked at the boy, knowing he had to be careful not to sting the youth's pride. “I dinnae doubt that ye can care for yourself. ‘Tis a wise mon who kens his own strengths and those of his enemy, however. Your enemy is a trained knight with other trained warriors at his command. All of whom are bigger and stronger than ye are. Ye are undoubtedly verra good at running and hiding, slipping about to see and hear what ye shouldnae without getting caught. ‘Tis still an unequal battle ye would fight. Your heart and mind are equal to many a knight's, but your body is still that of a boy—easily grabbed, easily held, and verra easily broken."

  Callum glared down at his too-thin body. “I just need to eat more."

  "'Twill help. So will allowing Strong Ian to teach ye how to use that knife ye now carry. Mayhap e'en a few other things a mon needs to ken to stay alive, to win his battles. And, think on this, my brave lad. If ye are found, ye could endanger Lady Kirstie and e'en the other children."

  "I would ne'er betray them."

  "Nay, I ken ye wouldnae. The simple fact that ye are still lurking about would probably be enough to start that swine to thinking, however. Why, when ye ken he wants ye dead, are ye still so close at hand? ‘Tis the verra first question he will ask himself. And, he willnae need ye to give him answers. They will be far too easy to guess. Help the others to stay safe and hidden, lad. Work to grow strong and skilled. Your turn to fight will come and ‘tis a wise mon who prepares for it."

  It was another half hour before Kirstie found herself alone with Payton. Strong Ian had taken Callum off to begin training him and the other children had gone with Wee Alice. Kirstie looked at Payton, silently praying that the way his fair face could make her heart clench would soon pass. She needed a warrior, not a lover. She was in need of a champion for the children, not romance or infatuation.

  "What ye said to Callum,” she began.

  Payton held up a hand to stop her words. “The lad has his pride. He needs to have it. He also needs to ken that there is no shame in accepting that a thin lad is nay match for a grown, battle-trained knight. Callum's belligerence may hide it, but we both ken a lot of his anger is born of shame. If the lad can come to see that there was naught he could do, that he was nay at fault for what was done to him, some of that shame might fade. As Ian teaches him the ways of battle, he will come to see that he was no match for his enemy. He will come to see that the shame is all Sir Roderick's, that only a dishonorable mon would use his greater strength and power to abuse those he swore to protect."

  "Thank ye all the same for speaking to him nay as a mon to a child, but as a mon to a mon. He is the most wounded of them all and I think the hurting began ere Roderick got his filthy fingers on the lad.” She sighed and shook her head. “I dinnae think all the scars upon his poor, wee heart will e'er be healed."

  "Nay, probably not.” He smiled faintly when she winced. “He can still be a strong, good mon, Kirstie. He has the strength, in heart and mind, and his plans for his future are to grow strong, learn to fight, and protect the bairns. The fact that he speaks of protecting, nay killing, should give ye some hope."

  "I suspect he means to protect by killing."

  "Aye, but he is still young. Restraint and clear judgment can yet be taught.” He stood up, took her hand in his, and, ignoring her shock, kissed her fingers. “Now, I am off to the king's court to whisper in a few weel chosen ears and find out all I can."

  "And I am to creep off into a wee hidey-hole, aye?"

  "Aye. And, it would be verra wise if ye crept into it and stayed there until I say ye can come out."

  Payton almost smiled as the soft-bellied laird he had been talking to hurried off to find his young son. The man was not particularly keen-witted, yet had understood Payton's subtle hints about Sir Roderick MacIye with an impressive speed. There had to be some past knowledge or crime for such a man to grasp the meaning of Payton's words so quickly, to look so stricken, and to race off through the crowded great hall to find his child as if a blade was already pressing against the boy's throat. It was quite possible that Sir Roderick had already shown an unhealthy interest in the boy.

  "Greetings, my bonny knight,” purred a familiar voice in his ear, followed by a few teasing licks of a warm tongue.

  When Payton turned to face Lady Fraser, he was surprised to feel not even the smallest flicker of interest. He knew he was lusting after Kirstie, but he had lusted after more than one woman at a time in the past. He had also been without a woman for longer than he had ever been since he was a very young man. Yet, the welcoming look in the lady's eyes, and the press of her fulsome body against his side, did not move him at all. Payton was both intrigued and alarmed. Was he weary of the games one played with women like Lady Fraser or had he, for the first time i
n his life, become physically bound to only one woman? And, if he had, what could he do about it and how long would it last?

  "My husband has been summoned to his father's bedside,” she said as she stroked his arm. “He will be gone for days. And nights. Many long, lonely nights."

  "Ah, my sweet dove, how ye do tempt this poor, weak mon,” he murmured as he took her hand from his arm and kissed her fingers. “I weep to think of the treasure I must turn away from."

  "Turn away from?” She snatched her hand away and glared at him. “Ye refuse me?"

  "My fair one, I must, though it stabs me to the heart. The king's men rarely ask anything of me,” he began.

  "Ha! The old king and now the heir's regents keep ye at their beck and call.” She frowned in the direction Payton's previous companion had fled. “And what could that silly fool have to do with the regents’ business?"

  "Now, my bonny pigeon, ye ken that a mon cannae talk about such things. But, I will say that that mon and I only spoke about his young son. He seeks to foster the lad, to begin his training and all. The mon sought my opinion on a few men.” Payton suddenly realized there was one other thing Lady Fraser was well known for. She was an avid collector and disperser of gossip. “He was curious about Sir Lesley MacNicol and Sir Roderick MacIye. I fear I wasnae verra helpful. I dinnae ken MacIye weel, though I have heard a whisper or two about the mon."

  "He is odd,” Lady Fraser murmured, glancing around the crowded room as if searching for the man. “He is frequently at the king's court, yet, e'en if hardpressed, I doubt anyone could tell ye the name of e'en one woman he has favored with his attentions. I have seen him indulge in some flirtation, but it was light, fleeting."

  "I heard he was married."

  "And holds true to his vows?” Lady Fraser laughed, but there was a bitter taint to her amusement. “Oh, I have heard that your family does, but if that is true, ‘tis a verra rare thing indeed. And, if Sir Roderick was so verra enamored of his wife that he remained faithful to her, why is he here but a day after she drowned?"

  "Drowned?"

  "Aye, ‘tis what he is telling all who will listen, although he doesnae seem to be doing so in order to gain the sympathy and comfort of some woman. ‘Tisnae as if anyone needs to ken the news, either, for she wasnae one who was weel kenned or loved."

  "Mayhap he but seeks aid in searching for her body."

  "He hasnae asked for any. From what I have heard of the tale, he may have already found her body and buried her. It seems they were frolicking by the river and she insisted on cooling her feet in the waters. She went too far in and was caught by the current. There was nay saving her.” She frowned. “That does sound as if she was swept away, yet I am verra certain he doesnae search for her. He certainly isnae indulging in any show of mourning.” She nodded toward a handsome, sturdy man flanked by two large, very dark men. “There he is and he doesnae act like a mon who has just buried his wife. E'en ones ye ken had a wretched union at least observe some form of mourning. Most of them,” she muttered, briefly scowling toward a rotund, greying man who had buried his third wife only a week ago.

  "Some men simply dinnae see the need to pretend,” Payton murmured. “Nay e'en to please the gossips."

  Payton studied Sir Roderick, fighting the urge to walk over to the man and end his life—as slowly and as painfully as possible. It surprised Payton only a little that he could feel so viciously bloodthirsty. Sir Roderick was a man worthy of such intense anger and hate. It also surprised Payton that the man was not marred in some way, his evil staining him for all too see. There should be something to warn others about him.

  Once he controlled his fury, Payton was able to more closely observe the man he intended to destroy. There was nothing unique or impressive about Sir Roderick. The two men with him looked to be more of a threat. Payton knew he would never trust Roderick or any of his men to fight fairly, that Roderick much preferred a stealthy knife thrust to the back to rid himself of a threat. He also noticed that Roderick could not stop himself from watching the pages who wandered through the crowd. Unless his perversion had become too strong to control or conceal over the years, it was astounding that his sickness had remained a secret for so long. The way the man watched the boys was chilling, for Payton began to suspect that Roderick was on the hunt again.

  "Ye are interested in Sir Roderick for some reason?” asked Lady Fraser. “Ye watch him most carefully."

  "I but search for some hint of grief, e'en a bit of irritation o'er the fact that he must now find another wife,” Payton replied. “She must have been a sore curse to the mon."

  "Mayhaps. I saw her but a few times. Small, dark, nay much more than a child. She appeared nay more than a wee, timid shadow chained to his side. Spoke to few and, when she did, Sir Roderick or one of his men was quick to separate her from her companion or stand close by until all conversation was strangled. Now that I think on the child, I must wonder if her death was truly an accident. She may have let the river have her on purpose."

  "Ah, aye, possible. And sad."

  "Oh, curse it a hundredfold. Fraser's sister."

  Before Payton could say a word, Lady Fraser was gone. A moment later he saw a stout, grey-haired woman marching in the direction Lady Fraser had fled. The woman did not pause, but scowled at him as she passed, and Payton nearly laughed. Clearly, at least one of Fraser's family was attempting to keep the man's wife from behaving badly. There was a chance Fraser himself had asked the woman to stay with his wife. That could prove helpful. Since he had pursued Lady Fraser, he could not think of a kind or even reasonable explanation for why he was no longer interested. If Lady Fraser was now saddled with a dragon of a chaperone, he would rarely be pressed for excuses to refuse her sensual invitations. He did not really wish to insult Lady Fraser. If nothing else, his sudden obsession with a small, smoky-eyed woman could prove fleeting, and he might regain an interest in what Lady Fraser so eagerly offered.

  Returning his attention to Sir Roderick, Payton tensed and had to fight hard to quell the urge to race over to the man, sword drawn. Sir Roderick had his hand on the shoulder of a small page. It was obvious the boy did not wish to be held there, and the way Sir Roderick studied the child made Payton's insides churn. He knew he could not openly drag away any boy who got near the man, not yet, but this time he could act. This boy was a kinsman, a MacMillan. As he walked toward Sir Roderick, Payton carefully and tightly tethered all his fury and disgust.

  After nodding a greeting to Sir Roderick, Payton clasped the boy on the shoulder and gently tugged him away from the man. The way young Uven shuddered once and relaxed made Payton wonder if the boy had sensed the threat in Sir Roderick. Uven was, after all, Lady Maldie's grandson and Payton knew she had many a gift, as did others in his clan. Payton much preferred that possibility to the one that had Uven knowing about the evil in Sir Roderick because he had already been subjected to it. The mere thought of that had him wrapping his arm around the boy's thin shoulders and holding him closely, protectively, by his side.

  "Are your parents here, Uven?” he asked the boy as he slowly walked him away from Sir Roderick. “'Tis far too long since I saw Cousin Morna and old Iain."

  "They are still at Dunncraig,” replied the boy. “Cousin James will soon take his place as laird there, but Papa will be his mon still. Cousin James has given us a fine, wee piece of land and a good stone house."

  "An honor indeed and one weel earned. Who are ye serving then?"

  "Sir Bryan MacMillan, one of my fither's highborn cousins.” He cast a brief, nervous glance back at Sir Roderick. “I am glad ye came to fetch me. I cannae like that mon.” Uven trembled slightly and edged closer to Payton.

  "Has he done something to make ye uneasy?"

  "Nay, not truly. ‘Tis just that he feels bad, ye ken? He seeks me out, and when he touches me, I feel ill. Mama told me to ne'er ignore such feelings, as many Murrays are gifted. So, I try to stay far away from that mon."

  "Good. Continue to do so
. And, tell Sir Bryan what ye just told me. He kens the Murrays weel. He will heed your words and help ye stay away from Sir Roderick MacIye."

  When the boy looked up at Payton and smiled, Payton nearly stumbled. It was Callum. True, Callum had yet to smile, but he had the same eyes, the same features, the same hair. Uven was only eight, but the baby softness was already leaving his features, revealing the fine bone structure Payton saw in Callum's face. No wonder he kept thinking something about Callum was familiar. The boy was a MacMillan to the bone; he had to be. The only trouble would come in trying to gather enough facts to prove it.

  "Is something wrong, Cousin Payton?” Uven asked.

  "Nay, laddie. I was but suddenly taken by how much ye look like the MacMillans."

  "Aye, Mama says I am a MacMillan to the verra marrow. She says she could think I took naught from her or the Murrays save that I have these feelings about people.” He frowned. “They are a wee bit frightening. Mama says she will see that I visit with my aunt Elspeth and cousins Avery and Gilly more so that they might help me learn about this gift."

  Payton agreed and told him a few tales about the women until he found Sir Bryan. As he handed the boy into Sir Bryan's care, he studied the man. Callum was yet again brought to mind, there to glimpse in the older man's coloring and features.

  He left the MacMillans without mentioning the boy. Not only was it safer for now if no one else knew where Callum was, but he needed proof of what he now believed. Payton knew he would not speak of it to anyone except Strong Ian, who could help him look for the proof he wanted. Someone, somewhere had to know who the boy's mother had been and when and how he had been tossed out to survive on his own. One look at Callum would be proof enough for many, and there was always a MacMillan or two at court, but Payton wanted more. He wanted enough to make Callum believe it, enough so that the boy would be certain just what clan he belonged to. Payton was certain that giving the boy a clan, a name, would help Callum far more than many another thing ever could. Once he had a name, became part of a small but proud and honored clan, Payton knew Callum would gain the pride and strength needed to overcome much of the pain he had suffered.