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CHAPTER FOUR
Kirstie could not believe how easily she had slipped away from Payton's house. She conceded that, after a week of being so well behaved that none of her family would recognize her, the watch on her had eased considerably. It was nice to think she had been clever, however. There was the chance that the others felt she would not wish to foolishly put herself within reach of a man who wished her dead, but she banished the thought. Thinking of herself as clever and stealthy, even daring, felt a great deal better.
Tugging idly at her simple, black woolen doublet, Kirstie began to meander through the narrow streets and alleys of the town. She did not look rich enough to attract danger or intimidate anyone, but just prosperous enough to be able to afford a coin or two for a service. Since she had been slowly, painstakingly accumulating money for years, she felt she had enough to start loosening a few tongues. Surely if Roderick could use money to commit his atrocities and buy silence, she could use money to stop him. She had never had the freedom to wander amongst the people of the town, to speak to anyone, anywhere, for as long as she wanted. Now, at last, she had the chance to gather testimony against Roderick, to tell people about him, and to cut off his supply of innocents.
It took Kirstie five long hours to fully comprehend that she might well be wasting her time and money. Her head ached from banging it hard against indifference and disbelief. Her heart felt shattered from the constant shock and pain of confronting a deeply rooted apathy. She had thought fear silenced the people at first, and for some it might, but far too many simply were not interested. Or struggled not to be because they had too much else to worry about.
The mon gives the lads a chance at a better life. I willnae hear him spoken ill of.
I have eleven bairns of me own. I havenae time or strength to worry about others.
'Tis past time someone took those thieving rats off the streets. They are a pestilence.
Those words and far too many similar ones were branded on her mind. They were the words of the ignorant and the heartless. Worse was the silence of the fearful. To break it required a larger, more fearful threat than Sir Roderick presented, and even if she could think of one, Kirstie doubted anyone would listen and believe it. She could, if she tried very hard, find a few thin excuses for the heartlessness of the men, but not for that of the mothers. Even if they were too hardened and wearied by life, surely they should at least fear for their own bairns? Were they so blind they thought only the unwanted were in danger?
As she approached the back of Payton's house, she tried to raise her spirits by reminding herself that there were still hundreds of people to speak to. There might still be someone out there willing to speak up, someone who realized that only by understanding and confronting the evil in their midst could it be defeated. She would just have to work harder. She had been a naive fool to think it would be easy.
Wee Alice gaped at her as she entered the kitchen and Kirstie inwardly cursed. Sneaking in was not as easy as sneaking out, especially when lost in her own unhappy thoughts. Wee Alice was concerned about the children, however, and as Kirstie shut the door behind her, she smiled at the woman. She just might be able to gain herself an ally within the household.
"What have ye been doing?” Wee Alice asked, her tone heavy with suspicion.
"Trying to find someone in this wretched town willing to speak out against my husband,” replied Kirstie.
"And ye needed to dress as a lad?"
"People will talk to a lad more easily than a lady, and I am supposed to be dead, aye?"
Wee Alice sat down at the table, cupped her round chin in her hand, and frowned at Kirstie. “'Tis dangerous."
"Oh, aye. ‘Twas also dangerous living with Sir Roderick. Someone in this cursed town has to ken something. A mon cannae keep taking children without someone seeing or hearing something."
"But they are nay willing to say anything, are they?"
"Nay.” Kirstie sighed and sat down on one of the benches flanking the table. “I was a fool to think it would be easy. E'en so, the disbelief and utter lack of interest I met at every turn was a shock. Roderick kens what he is about. He kens people willnae believe or willnae care. Nay when it is the verra poor and the abandoned who suffer. I had suspected it, but only that some would feel that way. I fear ‘tis everyone."
"A hard, bitter truth. Most have their own lives and kin to fear for and watch o'er. They havenae time or strength to fret o'er anyone else. So, there is no need for ye to do this again.” There was the hint of a question in Wee Alice's voice.
"'Tis a verra big town, Wee Alice. Somewhere out there, there has to be at least one brave soul. And, as Sir Payton does amongst the wealthy and powerful, so I shall do amongst the poor and helpless. Aye, they may nay help me or openly accuse Sir Roderick, but I do feel sure they heed what I say. My warnings settle in some part of their hearts and minds. Whispers of evil can spread about the town as swiftly as they do about the king's court."
"Och, aye. Verra swiftly."
"'Twill be slow, but, little by little, I will end Roderick's ability to take whate'er child he fancies from this town. His hunting ground will soon grow sparse of game. True, some may ne'er believe in the dark whispers, but whene'er Roderick seeks a child, those whispers will be there, making people hesitate, breeding suspicion. It will have to be enough. And, if Sir Payton vanquishes Roderick ere what I do can serve much good, it matters not. There may still be enough said and heeded for at least a few people to understand that one must be verra careful ere one entrusts a child to anyone—rich or poor."
Wee Alice nodded. “Aye, ‘tis possible. I can see the sense of what ye are doing, lass, but the laird willnae be liking it."
"Nay, he willnae."
Kirstie winced and slowly looked at the man standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She found it a little annoying that he could still look so breath-stealingly beautiful when he was acting the arrogant male. He had his arms crossed over his fine, broad chest, his long, well-shaped legs were braced apart, and there was a hard, angry look on his handsome face. She began to think Payton could not look bad no matter how hard he tried.
"Did all go weel at court this day?” she asked in as pleasant a voice as she could muster.
Payton slowly shook his head. She had been risking her life, disobeying him, and she acted as if nothing was wrong. She did it well, too. He walked over to her, grabbed her by the hand, and dragged her out of her seat.
"We need to have a wee talk,” he said as he started out of the kitchen, pulling her along with him.
It struck Kirstie as almost amusing that the touch of his hand on hers could make her feel all soft and warm inside. The man was angry. He was dragging her off to some place where he could lecture her until her ears burned. She should be preparing her arguments, not thinking about how nice it was to touch him.
"What are ye doing to Kirstie?"
Forcing her gaze away from Payton's attractive backside, Kirstie looked at Callum even as Payton stopped to face the belligerent boy. “He is going to lecture me,” she replied.
"He is angry,” Callum said, but eased his aggressive stance a little when he saw no fear in Kirstie.
"And ye think I might knock her about a wee bit, do ye?” Payton asked.
"'Tis what angry men do,” Callum replied.
"Nay this one."
It was clear by the look on the boy's face that he was not sure he believed that. “Mayhap I best come, too."
"'Tis kind of ye to worry o'er me, Callum,” Kirstie said, “but I think I wouldst rather suffer a scold without an audience. He willnae strike me,” she added softly.
"Ye sound verra sure of that."
"I am."
After another moment, Callum stepped aside. Payton gave the boy a small bow, then dragged Kirstie off to the small room where he did his accounts. The confrontation with Callum had not only served to ease the boy's concerns, but to take some of the sharp edge off his
own anger. Although, he mused as he gently but firmly pushed Kirstie down into a large, ornately carved chair, his anger did not seem to worry or frighten her.
In truth, the extent of the anger he had felt when he had realized what she had done surprised him. It surprised him even more to realize a lot of it was born of fear for her. As he had approached the kitchen and overheard her conversation with Wee Alice, he had felt that fear and anger twist together within him. Even if Roderick did not catch her, wandering the streets alone was dangerous. His mind had become crowded with all manner of dire fates she could have suffered and he would not have been able to protect her, would not have even known where she was. Such thoughts had chilled him to the bone.
As he poured them each a goblet of wine, he covertly studied her. Her diguise was good, might even have fooled him if he had not known it was she. She had surprisingly long legs for such a small woman and her attire displayed their every slim, shapely curve to perfection. Payton did not like the thought of her revealing that beauty to so many, even if those who saw her legs thought her a lad. Since he had never before cared who else caught a glimpse of the charms of any lady he desired or bedded, he found that feeling astonishing as well. Obviously, avoiding Kirstie as much as possible was not curing him of his obsession.
When she took a drink of wine and idly licked a stray drop from her full lips, he felt his belly clench with want. He, who had thought himself well versed in sensuality of all forms, had lately discovered that watching a woman eat could stir a man, fill his poor beleaguered mind with all manner of licentious images. Even sharing the meal with five children, Wee Alice, and Strong Ian had not helped cool his blood. Dining at court last evening had helped except that he had missed everyone. Even worse, he had discovered that watching other women eat did not stir him in any way. It was only Kirstie who affected him so. Now, it appeared, he could not even watch her quench her thirst without feeling like a buck in rutting season.
Payton reached for his anger. The mere thought of her wandering the dangerous streets alone thinking a lad's clothing would protect her was enough to clear the lust from his brain and replace it with clean, clear anger. “Mayhap ye can explain what game ye play?” he asked as he sprawled in the chair facing her.
"Ye mean ye didnae o'erhear it all?” she asked.
The look of pure male irritation that passed over his fair face almost made her smile. She had used the moments of tense silence to prepare herself for an argument, and to stop herself from staring at inappropriate parts of his lean body like some wanton. Kirstie had to make him understand that she had to help, had to do something to bring her husband to the justice he had eluded for so long. This was her fight, too. All other righteous and honorable reasons aside, her very life depended upon beating Roderick.
"Do ye have no idea of the danger ye put yourself in, wandering the streets alone?"
"Roderick thinks I am dead and he would ne'er recognize me like this."
"Mayhap not, but he isnae the only danger lurking out there, ye foolish wench."
"Foolish wench?” she muttered and took a deep drink of wine to quell the urge to toss her goblet at his head.
"A wee, pretty lad is nay any safer out there alone than a wee lass. And ye have dressed fine enough for some thief to think ye might have something worth stealing. And, where did ye get those clothes?"
"From one of the chests upstairs. I had thought of going about as a poor, ragged boy, but I couldnae find any rags."
"A poor, ragged lad? Ye mean such as the ones Sir Roderick steals from the street?"
She winced inwardly. It had not really occurred to her that she was probably no safer from Roderick as a beardless lad than if she had gone out as herself. That Payton could find that flaw in her plan was heartily annoying.
"I think I look too old to interest him."
Payton cursed and got up to pace the room, which made Kirstie want to echo his curse. It was impossible not to watch him as he moved. Every step he took was embued with a grace born of strength. She was struggling not to look at inappropriate parts of his body again. As he ranted about all the threats lurking upon the streets of town, she found herself watching the flex of muscle in his calf and thigh. His court dress was richly made, the tunic short enough to give her a far too tantalizing glimpse of his taut backside. Kirstie thought it a little odd that she could stop herself from staring at his groin with relative ease, but had to work very hard indeed to stop watching his legs and backside. Perhaps, she mused, it was because she did not think he would catch her at it, as he was usually facing away from her at the time. Of course, it could also be because it was such a pleasure to watch him move. Then, abruptly, he turned to face her, and Kirstie quickly looked up.
"Ye are paying me no heed at all, are ye?” he said, his tone a strange mixture of irritation and amusement.
"Aye, I am,” she lied and ignored his soft snort of disbelief. “I have to do something. I cannae just sit about and pray ye and Strong Ian can solve all my troubles. Nor can ye do it all by yourselves."
He crouched down in front of her so they were eye to eye. “Ye are the one Roderick wants dead."
"I ken it, but I am most careful. Dinnae forget, I ken all who aid him and serve him. I ken who to avoid."
"Ye wouldnae have to avoid anyone if ye would just stay in this house,” he snapped as he stood up, walked to the fireplace, and leaned against the thick stone mantel.
Kirstie set her goblet down and moved to stand near him. “I ken how to be careful, to be wary and watch my back. Since I ken from where in the town so many of the children come, I ken where to search for witnesses, allies. I also ken what names to mention, what tales to tell to stir suspicion."
"Which isnae working, is it?” He turned to face her more fully.
"Nay as weel as I had hoped. But, your work at court goes slowly as weel, aye?"
"Aye.” He took off her cap, almost smiling when her hair immediately started to slip free of the odd lump she had pinned it up into. “Word spreads slowly but surely, however. Yet, there are so many other troubles at court that worrying about a mon with a liking for lads isnae something many have time for. There is a struggle for power o'er our wee king amongst the Board of Regents. The Boyds rapidly gain more and more power. There are whispers that Lord Boyd and his brother Sir Alexander may try to grasp full control o'er young James."
Kirstie sighed and shook her head. “So the only lad most wish to hear about or fret o'er is our young king."
"And whether England may try to take advantage of all the squabbling and fighting for power."
"Do ye think there will be war?"
"I pray it willnae come to that, but when the rule of a country is at stake, war oft results.” Unable to resist, he took her hair down, combing his fingers through the silken mass to loosen the tangles. “But, we have our own battle to fight and cannae fret o'er those who try to steal power from a too-youthful king who hasnae the strength to hold fast to it."
"What are ye doing?” she asked, knowing she should move out of his reach, yet liking the feel of his fingers in her hair too much to stop him.
"Fixing your hair. Ye willnae wander the town alone."
"Oh? I willnae? I believe I requested that ye be my champion, my ally, nay my father."
"As your champion and ally, ‘tis my responsibility to see to your safety.” He grasped her by her slender shoulders. “'Tis nay safe for ye to wander these streets all alone."
"Then I will take someone with me."
"Curse it, ye barely escaped one attempt upon your life. Why do ye now court another?"
"Sir Roderick believes he succeeded in killing me, so he willnae be looking for me. Nor will any of his people. I need to do this. I cannae go to court and help ye. I cannae go to any of the few people I ken for I am supposed to be dead. I have been fighting to save the children too long to just stop now. There was danger in it before, wasnae there? And, that bastard tried to kill me. I cannae let that lie, cannae just sit b
y and pray he doesnae find me so that he can try it again. As ye make it impossible for him to get his filthy hands on the children of the highborn, he will turn more and more to the poor, to the ones in the town. I mean to sorely hinder him in that."
Payton could understand her need and agreed with her reasoning. Someone spreading the word about town and searching for allies and witnesses would be helpful. Strong Ian tried in what time he had to spare, but he was more apt to elicit fear than confidences. Logically, he knew her plan was a good one. Emotionally, he wanted to lock her in a room and surround it with burly guards until Roderick was dead and buried. That was not something he intended to confess, however, and he struggled to think of some compromise.
"I can take Callum with me,” she said, fighting not to be too strongly stirred by the way he was stroking her arms.
"Roderick and his men would easily recognize the boy.” He stared at her full mouth as she spoke, feeling nearly desperate to taste it.
"Nay when I am done with him. Two lads are in less danger than one and ye ken that I am verra good at creeping about unseen and hiding. Callum is nearly as good as I am. I swear that, at the first hint that my disguise is nay working or that I have roused my husband's interest, I will come back here and nay leave again until Roderick is dead."
Kirstie could not fully suppress a shiver of delight when he gently held her face between his elegant hands. The shards of green in his golden eyes seemed to sparkle and gleam, fascinating her. She did not really want to find him so alluring; far too many women did. The very last thing she needed was to become just one more in an undoubtedly impressive line of women he had seduced. And yet, she mused with an inner sigh, to be seduced by such a man would certainly be a memory any woman would cherish.
Highland Angel Page 5
