The Highland Secret Agent

by Emilia Ferguson

  “For that,” the man chuckled. “You may thank me.” He drained his glass.

  Alf sat quietly a while, chewing thoughtfully on a delicious slice of fruitcake and wondering why he felt quite relaxed. His world had just been turned upside down and he was sharing an afternoon meal with a man who was perhaps quite mad. Still, he was actually happy.

  “Now,” the thane said, pushing back his chair to rise. “You should find some accommodation. I trust you will spend a night here? The ride back to Dunkeld is too long to attempt in a single day.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Alf said, rising himself. “I'd be glad to.” Oddly enough, he would be. He liked the thane, he realized. Liked him and respected him. That was a pleasant discovery in itself.

  “Well, then,” the thane said in the same low register of voice. “I'll see to it.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  The thane looked out of the window. Out there, the sun was already setting. The thane stretched and turned to Alf.

  “We'll dine in an hour. I think Blaire will show you to your room.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Not at all.”

  As Alf followed the maidservant up the stairs and to the chamber that had been set aside for him, he couldn't help but feel amazement.

  The day had gone so differently then how he had expected. He had been betrayed and then saved by someone he would never have thought to trust. Life was strange. All because he had done as he felt was right.

  He shrugged and, feeling exhausted, sat down heavily on the well-covered bed. He couldn't help it that, when he was alone, his first thoughts were of Ambeal.

  He held her face in his mind, beautiful and precious, and hoped with every fiber of him that she was well and happy.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A NEW DANGER

  A NEW DANGER

  Ambeal sat in the turret. She was in the top-most room, looking out over a cold landscape. She sat by the fire, a shawl around her shoulders. She felt as if she had frozen inside and could not get warm.

  I need to get out of here.

  The more she thought about it, the less possible it seemed. She needed to leave this place. Her own home had become a threatening cage. However, the more she thought about leaving, the more impossible it began to seem. She was one woman. She was facing her father and Beiste, two implacable enemies. Moreover, maybe they were right that she was insane?

  She clenched her hands, feeling her nails digging into her palms.

  “I am not insane,” she said quietly. “I will find out what is going on.”

  Since the missing delivery of the wood, other things had happened too. The steward had reported a deficit in the budget. The farmer in the valley claimed he had not been paid for milk. No one said anything, but all eyes turned to Ambeal.

  They all think I'm going mad now.

  The more she felt determined to prove her innocence and sanity, the more she felt as if she was actually mad. Maybe she really had forgotten those things? Maybe what Beiste said was right, that she was not in her right mind? Maybe the fact that she was convinced of her own sanity was part of the madness.

  I need to get out of here.

  It wasn't just the threat of madness. It was the fact that here, she had no idea where Alf was. She was trapped here, powerless, unable to help, while he rode to confront a dangerous enemy. She felt sick every time she thought of it. Yet, she could not stop herself from thinking it.

  “My lady?”

  She looked up dully as someone spoke to her. She realized she had been sitting hunched at the fire, hands clasped, staring into the flames. She stood, smoothing down her skirts.

  “Yes?”

  The disturbance was one of the newer maidservants. She looked at her hands, looking nervous. “Milady, a summons from downstairs.”

  “What? Oh. Yes. I'll go.”

  “No, let me come up.”

  Ambeal shut her eyes despondently as Beiste's voice interrupted them. He walked past the maid and into the chamber. The maid looked up wordlessly, curtsied to him and left.

  They were alone together.

  Ambeal stood with her back to the wall. She felt instantly on the defensive. What did he want with her, here, alone?

  “Beiste,” she warned.

  “Ambeal,” he said with a hesitant smile. “You know me. Why would I harm you?”

  Ambeal laughed. “I wonder why, Beiste.”

  He frowned as if he was worried about her, and then took her hand. “Come, dear. Sit down.”

  Ambeal bit her lip. She wanted to laugh. How dare he pretend he was concerned for her? He was the one making her think she was out of her mind, or making other people think so anyhow! How dare he pretend he cared about her?

  “Beiste,” she said, staying where she was. “If you have something to say, please do so.”

  He sighed. “My dear girl. You know that I care about you. I always have. Now...” he paused, rubbing a weary hand down his handsome face momentarily. “Now I find that things are not as they were. I am disturbed by your marriage, Ambeal.”

  She laughed. “Why, Beiste?”

  “Well, because it's changed you. You are a delicate girl. I can see the strain of this bad decision weighs on you. Now. If you wish my advice, I would say annul it.”

  Ambeal drew in a long, shaky breath. “I need no advice,” she said in a thin, clear voice. Inside she shook. Outside she seemed calm. “I am quite well. My mind's made up.”

  He sighed. “As you wish.” He sat down on the settee opposite her. He looked up at her, brown eyes soft with reproach. “I will leave today,” he said carefully. “I have important business. But know this, Ambeal,” he said softly. “I am ready to wed you. If you wish it – when things get hard, when you need shelter, safety and a place to run from all this turmoil in your world – I am here. You will need somewhere to run, I think. I'll be that place.”

  Ambeal stared at him. She laughed. “I am running nowhere.”

  “As you wish,” he said softly. The words were not a threat, merely resigned. Ambeal shivered.

  “I will go downstairs,” she said in a thin voice. “I have much to think on.”

  “Yes,” he said. “You do.”

  Ambeal shot him a look, but he said nothing further and so she walked away, heading towards the door.

  He stood and she tensed. Was he going to grab at her again?

  He made no attempt to touch her, though, merely inclined that grave, handsome head in a bow. Then he stood aside for her to leave.

  Ambeal walked down the stairs, heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't think straight. Couldn't breathe. All she knew was that there was some small respite. Beiste was leaving.

  She crossed the hallway downstairs, heading to the colonnade. She walked across the checkered floor, heading to the courtyard and the stables. She needed a ride.

  She needed to distract herself from her concern for Alf. If she stayed here in these four walls with Beiste always watching her and her worry for Alf, she really would go mad.

  “My lady!” a man called out. She closed her eyes a moment. What was the matter?

  “Yes, Rodney?”

  “My lady! The chief verderer was looking for you.”

  “The chief verderer?” That was Ewan. She frowned. What could he want? She turned and hurried away, heading to the stables.

  With everything that had gone wrong here lately, she worried for Ewan. Had aught happened?

  When she got there, she paused. “Ewan?”

  “Yes, milady?”

  “There you are!” she felt relieved to see the kindly face again. In the whole of the castle, there were two she trusted implicitly – Ewan and her maid.

  “My lady. I apologize for disturbing you,” he said gravely. “I just needed to report something I noticed in the village.”

  “Something you noticed?” she frowned.

  “Aye, my lady. It was Seamus, the shepherd,” he explained. “The man works for Drummond, the
farmer, aye?”

  “Yes, I know of him,” she nodded. Drummond was the farmer who now claimed he'd not been paid yet.

  “Well, he was in the ironmongers paying off the farmer's debt there,” he said. “He was saying how the farmer had just come into money. Of course, Laidlaw – that's the ironworker – he's interested. He asks him, how did he come into this money? He says a man gave it to him. A big man with black hair and a brown plaid. On a black horse.” He raised his brows inquiringly.

  “A man with black hair on a black horse...oh!” Amabel covered her mouth with her hand as she looked down the row of stalls. Beiste had ridden here on a black horse. He was likely still in the end stall, where they stabled the new horses. She stared at him.

  “Aye, I thought so,” he nodded. “Something unsavory going on.”

  Amabel nodded. “I think so,” she said softly. “Thank you, Ewan.”

  He grinned. “Don't mention it.”

  As she considered this news, Amabel thought it made a lot of sense. Beiste had been paying the workers to foment dissent. Some of them were incorruptible, of course. However, when a man had debt and small children to feed, who wouldn't agree to tell a lie or two for a coin or two of gold? She felt her heart thump in her chest.

  It's not proof, but it almost his. How could he?

  “Thank you, Ewan,” she said again, warmly. “You're a good friend.”

  He blinked at her, and she was surprised to see he was almost crying. “Thank you, milady.”

  She smiled. “Don't mention it.”

  She turned and headed back into the house.

  “The lying, cheating, horrible...” she sighed. “How could he?”

  “Milady?” Bronna appeared as she crossed the room, heading upstairs.

  “Yes?” she asked. “Sorry, Bronna. I was just angry.”

  “Good, milady,” Bronna said with a soft smile. “Never a bad thing to be, in my view. Milady, I was asked to tell you that his lordship just left.”

  “Oh.” Ambeal felt her body slump, relieved. She had not known how frightened she had been until now, when she no longer had to be. She reached for the wall to steady herself. She was relieved, too, to note that, of all those closest to her, Bronna did not think she'd gone mad.

  Her maid smiled at her. “I also have some other news.”

  “Oh?” Ambeal asked, raising a brow. What now? She feared some new report of mismanagement, the flour finished, or the barley molded, or something of that nature. However, Bronna was still smiling.

  “A horse has been sighted on the moors, milady. Alf is coming home.”

  Ambeal stared at her. She felt a grin cover her face and her heart filled with delight. She laughed.

  “Thank you, Bronna!” she said happily. “He's alive!”

  They both laughed.

  Ambeal felt her heart soar and her spirits lift. She knew Alf was alive. He was safe and he was coming home.

  Everything else was possible now.

  CHAPTER SIX

  REUNITED AT HOME

  REUNITED AT HOME

  Alf rode into the courtyard at Bronley, his heart light with joy. He couldn't yet believe that he was here! He had returned to Ambeal. Last time he was here, he had expected he would meet his end. He had not thought he'd return here. Yet now he had. Somewhere, in the castle, she was waiting for him. Ambeal.

  As he thought of her his loins tensed with longing. He wanted her so badly. He wanted to hold that sweet, curvaceous body to himself and kiss those soft red lips. She had haunted his dreams for so long now. He needed to know her truly.

  “My lord!” a guard greeted him. Alf nodded.

  “Glennan. Good to see you. Is his lordship in the great hall?”

  “No, my lord,” he said. “He's in the turret. At the books.”

  “Well, then,” Alf said grimly. “I'll seek him out there, then.”

  “Good, my lord.”

  As Alf went into the fortress, he felt his anger, which he had held back for the entire journey, begin to surface. He was furious. He marched in, prepared to confront his lordship.

  “Alf!”

  He heard a woman's voice call his name. He stopped. His heart melted and anger dissolved. She was in the hallway and she ran to meet him, her face alight with love. His heart soared.

  “Ambeal.”

  He was laughing then, and he drew her to him. He held her close, shivering as his body pressed against those smooth, lovely curves. His mouth sought hers and he kissed her.

  Her lips parted softly under his probing tongue. He tensed, feeling the soft warmth of her mouth draw him in. He tasted the sweetness of her warm lips – marzipan after luncheon, he guessed – and he wanted more of her. He could feel his body responding and he knew that he had to have more, had to discover what she looked like under that gown, to sample all her pleasures.

  “Ambeal,” he whispered.

  “Alf.”

  He looked into her eyes and she held his gaze. It seemed as if she could read what he was thinking, for the look she gave him was part apprehension and part wonder. He nodded.

  “My dear,” he whispered. His mouth was dry as if he had eaten lemons. “Shall we go up?”

  She looked up at him and, slowly, nodded.

  He followed her up the stairs. It was mid-afternoon, but under the clouds it seemed much darker. He followed her to her bedchamber. Outside the door, he looked into her eyes. He would not impose his wishes on her. If she was not ready, he could wait.

  I do not know how, but I can. It could be the hardest thing he'd done, but he'd manage.

  Ambeal nodded. She looked into his eyes and he reached for her, hunger rising in his veins like a warm tide. He drew her against him firmly and his mouth clamped onto hers. She leaned against him and her breasts pressed to his chest, the softness of them against his hard body a new excitement.

  She was yielding and ready, her mouth clinging gently to his tongue. He felt her curves soft under his hands and he pushed open the door, leading her inside. There, in the fire-lit dark of the bedchamber he kissed her again.

  “Ambeal,” he whispered. His hands stroked her body, reaching up to touch her marble-white cheek. He kissed her there, too, amazed by the soft warmth of her skin.

  Then, gently, he leaned against her, pushing her back towards the bed. She fell back with a little huff of surprise. The sound made his body ache with need.

  It was his wedding night – truly and finally.

  He lay down on the bed. Propped on one elbow, he kissed her surprised, eager mouth. He thrust his tongue in eagerly and she responded, yielding to his probing exploration.

  His hands moved to her hair and he stroked it gently. It was soft and she made a little sound of pleasure as his hands stroked her. He tensed.

  Gently, he lowered his lips to her neck. He kissed the tender white skin and then moved lower. He could smell her soft perfume – strewing-herbs and rosemary – and he breathed it in eagerly, wanting to drown in the scent from her.

  He tickled fingers down her neck and she giggled. Then he reached for the button of her gown.

  “Yes?”

  She nodded. Her eyes were big and a little wary. He recalled she'd never done this before. He must go slowly. He didn't want to scare her. He wanted everything to be perfect.

  He undid the top button and then moved the dress down a little, exposing a pale shoulder. Then he eased it down further. He undid the next button. He could see her collarbones now, and the faintest hint of cleavage. It excited him beyond anything he had ever known.

  Smooth, soft and full, her two breasts met in a gentle curve, the sort that drew on his loins and made him want to investigate it with his tongue.

  He wanted to go slowly, teasing himself by revealing her body to him bit by bit, but he found he could not restrain himself any more. He undid the next button and the next and to his amazement she was making sounds of urgency, clearly as in need to have the dress gone as himself. He drew it down over her body and let it sl
ide to the rug.

  Then he kissed her clavicles and moved downward, moving lower until he grazed the top of her under-dress with his lips. He could feel the fullness of her breasts and he stroked them through the soft linen of the fabric, making her moan.

  She gasped and he drew the under-dress down in one smooth motion, pooling it at her feet. Then he reached down with his hand to remove her underclothes. He was shivering as he did so, his whole body overcome with the profound need to feel himself inside her, to see her loveliness revealed.

  She was naked before him. He stared at her. Her body was the loveliest thing he'd ever seen before. Her breasts were full and taut, the nipples pale pink. Her waist was small and her hips curvy, leading down to beautiful soft thighs and well-formed calves. Even her feet were beautiful – white and pink and lovely. He would never have imagined that every part of a person could be so wondrous.

  He leaned down and, shivering, unable to believe this lovely body was his to explore, took a nipple in his mouth. He sucked gently, relishing its fullness between his lips. She gasped and the sound drove him to new wildness. He stroked her breasts, unable to get enough of their plump fullness. He went lower, kissing his way down her body. He could smell the spiced scent of her and he felt driven to a level of desire he'd never thought existed.

  He moved down to the parting of her thighs and stroked her gently, making her part her legs. Then he licked her.

  She moaned as his lips teased and tickled her, and then her cries became more urgent as he tasted her. He loved the feel of her soft skin, the taste of her.

  She was crying out now, monosyllables of wonder, and he could wait no longer. He tore off his own clothing and knelt between her thighs.

  She was sobbing with pleasure and he looked at her face, smiling to himself. Her eyes met his.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “Oh, yes.”

  He smiled again. Gently, knowing he could hurt her and not wishing to, he pushed inside.

  He felt the smooth warmth envelop him and then stopped. He paused. Then, gently, with even pressure, he pushed on.