Highland Angel

by Hannah Howell

  "Oh!” She leaned back to look at him as she recalled some of the other things she had overheard. “Ye now ken Roderick's plans."

  "Aye. He means to do to me as I did to him.” Payton moved to a chair and sat down, pulling Kirstie down onto his lap. “'Twas something of a shock to discover that I could become a pariah in but a day or so. He is telling all who will listen that ye and I planned your supposed drowning so that we could be together and that, e'en when ye were seen coming to my house, I denied e'en kenning who ye were. I am the vile stealer of wives and he is the poor cuckolded victim."

  "And people are actually listening to such nonsense?” she asked.

  "I fear so.” He began to idly rub his hand up and down her leg, subtly inching up her skirts so that, soon, he could easily slip his hand beneath them. “As Sir Bryan says, some of that readiness to heed the mon's tale is my own fault. I have cuckolded a few men.” He ignored her snort of disbelief over his claim of only a few. “Yet, I had thought I had friends there, ones who wouldnae believe such a tale, might e'en come to my defense."

  "Obviously Sir Bryan is a true friend.” She stroked his cheek and nestled her face against his neck in a silent show of sympathy over his obvious disappointment.

  "He is a cousin by marriage."

  "We both ken such a thin relation doesnae stand by ye nay matter what. He does it because he is a friend."

  "Aye, I suppose he is, and far truer than most. ‘Tis clear the others only tried to ingratiate themselves with one they felt held the favor of the regents as he once held the favor of the king. Now that I may risk losing that favor, they dinnae want to be within a mile of me. I decided I must have been too long at court, for I wasnae aware of the falsity of so much that is said and done. ‘Tis probably time to let another Murray come to court to keep an ear to the ground. I have become too deeply sunk into the game of empty flatteries and fake smiles."

  She nodded. “My father said it was probably a good thing we are such a small clan no one notices, for otherwise we might have to go to court. He said it was a midden heap of lies, betrayals, and hunger for power. Said the people there were like one of those dogs ye think is all friendly, sweet-natured, and obedient, until, one day, when ye are nay looking, it bites ye right in the arse.” She smiled when he laughed, pleased she could raise his spirits, if only briefly. “Lady Fraser seemed willing to believe in ye,” she murmured.

  "For a wee while. It soothes her vanity."

  "Weel, I suspicion she has some right to be a wee bit vain. She is verra beautiful.” Kirstie could not fully repress a sigh. “Verra fulsome, too."

  Kirstie gave a small squeak of surprise when Payton suddenly stood up with her in his arms. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself. It was not until he was opening the door that she recovered from her shock enough to say anything. Even as she opened her mouth to speak, he opened the door, and there stood Ian. Kirstie groaned and hid her blush-warmed face against Payton's neck.

  "I came to tell ye that we will dine in an hour,” Ian said, grinning widely.

  "Ah, good,” said Payton as he started up the stairs to his bedchamber. “That should be enough time."

  Hearing Ian laugh, Kirstie groaned again. Then curiosity banished her embarrassment. She lifted her head to look at Payton as he entered his bedchamber and kicked the door shut behind him.

  "Enough time for what?” she asked.

  "To show ye that bigger isnae always better,” he replied.

  Kirstie opened her mouth to tell him to stop his nonsense. Then she realized what he planned to do and quickly shut it again. In all honesty, she could not think of a more pleasant way to spend an hour than letting Payton Murray try to convince her she was more desirable than the very well endowed Lady Fraser.

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  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was not easy, but Kirstie hid her feelings of horror over the bloody and bruised little boy Callum brought to her. She had come into Payton's ledger room to try to compose a letter to her family, one that would tell them enough to assure them she was safe, yet not enough to alarm or enrage them. That problem seemed very small compared to the one that confronted her at the moment.

  She heartily wished Wee Alice was home as she sat the boy down and, with Callum fetching the things she needed, did her meager best to tend to his injuries. Poor Simon seemed unable to stop shivering, even after she served him some watered wine and honey cakes. The way he devoured the honey cakes, revealing all too clearly that he was starved for food, both saddened and infuriated her. By the looks of the couple who were supposed to care for children like Simon, the Darrochs fed their own healthy appetites regularly. She pretended not to notice how Simon shoved two of the cakes into the pocket of his ragged coat.

  "Better now, Simon?” she asked, although the boy still acted terrified.

  "Aye,” he answered and quickly took another gulp of wine. “I had to come here."

  "Of course ye did,” she murmured in a soothing voice, although she thought it a rather odd thing to say.

  Kirstie wished someone else was at home, that it was not just herself and Callum. It felt odd to be so alone. Since Roderick had come to his door a week ago, there had been an uncomfortably close guard kept on her and the children. Today, however, being warm and sunny, had prompted Wee Alice to convince Ian that the children needed to get out. With the judicious use of coats and caps, she felt they should be able to safely take the five youngest out into the wood to collect herbs and berries. Callum had been invited to go along, but had declared himself Kirstie's guard for the day. Ian had taken one of the three guards Payton had posted outside with him and Payton was back at court trying to dim the poisonous effects of Roderick's campaign against him. That left two guards outside and, although she scolded herself for being a nervous coward, Kirstie suddenly did not think it was enough.

  And why had those guards not brought Simon to her, she asked herself as she slowly stood up. It was possible Simon had gotten to the back entrance unseen, but not very likely. Kirstie did not like to be suspicious of a child, yet what better way to keep her too occupied to notice anything was wrong than to send her a battered child in need of care? Had she not stayed in one place, never questioning, never looking?

  "Callum, did ye see Donald when ye opened the door to Simon?” she asked.

  "Nay.” Callum scowled. “He should have been in the back, aye?"

  "Aye.” She saw how pale Simon was and began to think it was not all due to the pain he must be feeling. “And Malkie?"

  Callum started to glare at Simon. “Nay. Him neither."

  Kirstie looked at Simon, who started to cry. “Oh, Simon, my poor laddie, what have ye done?"

  "He has assisted me in taking back what is mine."

  A chill so sharp it made her shiver went through Kirstie as she turned to look at the man standing in the doorway. Roderick looked much the same, fair in coloring and solid in build. Although her eyes had been somewhat spoiled by Payton's beauty, she had to admit that her husband was handsome in his way, except for the look in his pale blue eyes. At the moment, those cold eyes shimmered with malevolent triumph.

  Wattie and Gib lurked right behind him as they always did. A widely grinning Gib stepped forward and Kirstie tensed, subtly pulling her dagger from the sheath hidden beneath a thin opening in her skirts. The man held a tiny, silently weeping girl, and Kirstie knew exactly what had forced Simon to help these men. Beating the boy had obviously not been enough. She eased herself between the men and the children after Gib shoved the little girl toward her and she ran straight to Simon.

  "Run, Callum,” she ordered, keeping her voice low in the hope that a gloating Roderick would not hear her.

  "Nay, I must protect ye,” Callum said in an equally soft voice as he stood beside her, a dagger in his hand.

  Glancing at the boy, Kirstie noticed the big knife he favored was still sheathed at his side. She idly wondered just how many weapons the boy now ca
rried. Keeping her gaze fixed upon Roderick, who seemed to be content to stand there and savor his victory for a while, she knew she would have to give her valiant protector a very good reason to leave.

  "Simon, take your sister and start edging toward that big tapestry on the wall,” she ordered, still keeping her voice low and trying to move her lips as little as possible.

  "Why are ye helping that traitor?” muttered Callum.

  "'Tis clear how ye got that poor boy to help ye,” she said to Roderick in a normal voice, but intending the explanation for Callum. As she had hoped, all three men fixed their gazes upon her. “Beating the child wasnae enough?” In a whispered aside, she ordered Callum, “Go. Someone needs to tell Payton what has happened and as soon as possible."

  "But, he will kill ye,” Callum whispered back.

  "Nay too quickly. He likes to gloat. Go. Now.” A faint whisper of sound told her he was obeying her with as much stealth as possible.

  "The boy was surprisingly reluctant to assist me,” drawled Roderick. “I told him my dogs had trailed ye and Callum right to the well at the children's home, but the boy dared to lie to me and claim he had ne'er seen or heard of either of ye. Our attempts to persuade him to be more truthful failed, so we decided he might care more about his sister's life than his own. Or yours. Ye do collect a rather sad clutch of allies, m'dear."

  "Such brave, stout men ye are, threatening and pounding on bairns,” she sneered.

  "Ye should be more temperate in your speech, m'dear. Ye are now back in your husband's loving grasp."

  "I am nay leaving here."

  "Oh, aye, ye are.” He started to walk toward her, Gib and Wattie slinking along behind him.

  She held her dagger out, smiling coldly when all three men stopped. “Aye, I see ye hesitate. But then I am nay a child and I am armed. Ye ne'er were any good at confronting an enemy to his face. Or hers. And, there isnae any river near at hand for ye to toss me into."

  "I wouldnae try that again. At some time during our five years of marriage ye might have told me ye could swim."

  Kirstie wondered just how insane her husband was. He sounded irritated, even grieved, that she had kept a secret from him, a secret that had ruined his plan to murder her. Roderick was acting as if she had failed him as a wife, even committed some grave sin with her reluctance to confide everything in him, her husband.

  "We didnae talk much, Roderick,” she replied with a hard-won calm.

  "Those little bastards are escaping,” yelled Gib.

  Roderick cursed even as Gib and Wattie bolted forward. Kirstie managed to trip Wattie, but Gib reached the tapestry the children were just disappearing behind. He suddenly bellowed and staggered back, a dagger buried deep in his upper arm. Kirstie breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the scrape of stone on stone and knew the children had shut the hidden door behind them. As Gib and Wattie wasted several moments taking turns trying to open the door into the passageway the children were fleeing down, Kirstie faced her husband again.

  "Ye are a troublesome lass,” Roderick said in a tight, cold voice that told Kirstie he was having difficulty restraining his temper. “Where did they go?"

  "Why should I ken what little hidey-holes and escape routes Callum has found?” she asked, moving slightly when Gib and Wattie moved to flank Roderick, for she wanted to keep all three men in sight.

  "E'en if ye havenae searched this whole house for places to hide and ways out, that little bastard Callum would have told ye of all he found. Despite all my efforts to educate him, he retains a softness for the lasses."

  "Educate him? Is that what ye call the foul perversions ye force on the children? Education?"

  He shook his head and sighed. “'Tis evident the lecherous Sir Payton hasnae added much to your understanding of the pleasures and needs of the flesh. I do the children no harm. In truth, I give many of them a far better life than they had, for I give them warm clothing, food, and clean beds. I but ask a small service in return for my largesse. What harm is there in that?"

  She wondered if he truly believed what he said. Kirstie had the chilling feeling that he did. “And the ones ye kill?"

  Roderick shrugged. “They would have died anyway, if left where they were."

  "Ye are long overdue for killing, Roderick,” she said, her voice icy, her tone fierce, as she wondered if she could do it herself.

  "Nay, my curse, ye are.” He made a languid movement with his hand. “And ye have played this game quite long enough. I dinnae intend to be here when those thick-witted guards wake or one of your champions returns."

  Kirstie inwardly cursed. That had only been a tentative hope, but he had just effectively killed it. She tensed and adjusted her grip on her dagger as she prepared for the attempt to capture her. They would undoubtedly succeed, for she was no match against three men, but she hoped she could inflict some memorable pain before they succeeded.

  "Get her, lads,” Roderick ordered his men. “Do watch out for that dagger. She may ken how to use it."

  For a few moments, Kirstie was able to hold Gib and Wattie at bay. She even gave each man a painful, if minor, wound. Unfortunately, that only increased their determination to get her. The men were not particularly smart, but they did know how to fight. They also proved very skillful at keeping her away from the door and window. Kirstie doubted she would have been able to get through either, but she would have liked the chance to try.

  When Wattie managed to get behind her, Kirstie knew it was over. She managed to give Gib another good scratch with her dagger, however, before Wattie wrapped his thick arms around her. A soft cry of pain escaped her when Gib viciously twisted her wrist as he took the dagger out of her hand. Despite knowing she had little chance of breaking free, Kirstie wriggled and kicked in Wattie's hold as he turned to face Roderick.

  The gloating, malicious smile on her husband's square face so infuriated Kirstie that she went very still for a moment. She knew his glee was born of the knowledge that he could now murder her at his whim. It was past bearing. Kirstie gave him what she suspected was an equally malicious smile, then kicked him in the groin as hard as she could.

  Kirstie was able to savor her success for one brief moment. Roderick went white, clutched himself, then sank to his knees. Both Gib and Wattie cursed as Roderick nearly sobbed with pain, then retched. She detected a note of admiration in Gib and Wattie's voices. It had been a vicious strike from someone who should have been cowed, and Kirstie suspected the two brutes respected that even though they would never tolerate it.

  As Roderick staggered back to his feet, Kirstie braced for the retribution she knew would come. Since it would be far too troublesome for them to carry her away while she was still concious, she knew she would have been knocked out anyway. At least she had struck a telling blow herself first, and there was some satisfaction in that. The fury sparkling in Roderick's eyes told her she would suffer a far more punishing blow than she might have before, however.

  Even expecting the strike, and knowing it would be a forceful one, when it came it was still a shock. Her head snapped back and, despite the blinding pain in her jaw, she was fleetingly aware of a sharp one in the back of her head, as well. As blackness rolled over her, Kirstie heard Wattie cursing and knew that the second pain had come from the back of her head smashing into Wattie's jaw. She smiled.

  "Jesu, Roderick,” Wattie muttered, holding Kirstie's limp body with one arm as he tested his jaw for breaks with his other hand. “Ye could have warned me."

  "Ye kenned we would have to silence the bitch,” Roderick said as he rubbed his knuckles. “Is her jaw broken?"

  After checking Kirstie's jaw, Wattie shook his head. “Nay,” he replied as he flung her body over his shoulder. “We best get out of here.” He did not wait for any response, but immediately headed for the door.

  "What about those three brats?” asked Gib as he and Roderick followed Wattie out of the house.

  "We will get them,” said Roderick as they walked past one
of the unconcious, tightly bound guards.

  "Sure we shouldnae kill those guards?"

  "At the moment, what I am doing is perfectly legal. I am simply retrieving my chattel. Cluttering my path with dead men gains me naught, could e'en cause me trouble. ‘Tis probably best Callum slipped away. I would have been sorely tempted to use the ungrateful little bastard's body to send Sir Payton a clear and bloody message. That may have been satisfying, but it would also have been a mistake."

  "Then ye probably cannae kill this bitch too soon,” said Wattie when they reached their horses.

  Roderick mounted carefully, cursing softly over the lingering pain in his groin, and waved Wattie away when he tried to hand him Kirstie. “Ye carry the bitch.” He watched as Gib helped Wattie mount, then settle the unconcious Kirstie in the man's arms. “And, aye, I shall be forced to keep her alive for a while. However, I plan to make her deeply rue each added moment of life.” He kicked his mount into a gallop, knowing his men would follow him closely all the way back to Thanescarr.

  Callum slipped out from behind a tree and watched the three men carry Kirstie away. He had suspected the man would take her back to Thanescarr, but had needed to be certain. His fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of his knife, he strode back to where Simon and his sister Brenda stood by the unconcious guards. As he walked past the well, he filled a bucket with water and tossed it over the guards’ faces. While they sputtered awake, he cut their bonds.

  "What happened?” Malkie asked in an unsteady voice as he cautiously sat up.

  "Sir Roderick took Lady Kirstie,” replied Callum. “She made me leave to take this traitor to safety."

  Malkie looked at Simon, his eyes widened, and then he looked back at Callum. “Did ye do that?"