Highland Master

by Howell, Hannah

  “I am preparing to kiss you,” he said, slipping his hand beneath her chin and tilting her face up to his.

  “Are ye actually asking permission to do so this time?”

  “Aye, I suppose I am.”

  “Oh, I am nay sure that is wise, nay if ye really wish to kiss me. Asking gives me time to think about it. Then I start to consider the possibility that someone might see us, that it could hurt my standing here if I am caught in a mon’s arms, or e’en that every priest I have e’er listened to has spoken of such stolen moments as the first step on the path to sin.”

  He kissed her, smiling against her lips when she laughed. It pleased him to make her smile, as she had been sunk deep in sadness and worry since finding out that her men might really be in danger and not just traveling around France trying to make money to bring home to their kin. And then Brett stopped thinking of anything but the sweet taste of her.

  Triona wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him and he kissed with all the passion and need any woman could want. She was astonished at just how quickly a kiss could make her ache for so much more. Brett’s kiss twisted her innards with an aching want and had her blood running hot. She had never experienced anything like it before. By the time he moved his mouth from hers and began to kiss her neck, she was panting as if she had run miles.

  “Anyone who is out can probably see us up here,” Triona whispered, but her concern was not strong enough to move her out of his arms.

  “Aye, Mama, they can. I did. ’Tis how I found ye.”

  Brett caught hold of Triona when she jerked out of his arms so fiercely that she put herself in danger of tumbling off the walls. Lightly holding her arm, he turned with her to look at Ella. The little girl was dressed in a lace-trimmed nightdress and was smiling at them. Brett suspected the panting Triona was doing now had very little to do with passion and much more to do with a parent’s fear at seeing her small child up on the high walls, alone.

  “Ella Mary Margaret McKee!” Triona gasped and tugged free of Brett in order to reach out and grab her child.

  “Uh-oh. Ye just said all my names. Am I in trouble?”

  “Aye, ye most certainly are. What are ye doing up here? These walls are nay a safe place for a wee lass to be, and I think ye ken that weel. And yet here ye are with naught but your nightdress on, nay e’en wearing shoes. And where is Peggy?”

  “Sleeping.” Ella lowered her head a little and gazed up at her mother through her lashes. “I had a bad dream, Mama, and I needed ye.”

  Brett looked up at the stars, fighting a smile. The child was beguiling, and that look would be enough to soften the anger of any adult. He doubted it was going to work on Triona at the moment. The risk of a fall for such a small child, making her way up onto the walls, was far too great for a loving mother to allow big blue eyes, a sweet face, and a coaxing voice to stem the anger born of fear.

  “Ye should have awakened Peggy then and had her come and find me. Ye never, never should have climbed up on these walls alone.”

  “But, Mama . . .”

  “Nay. I said never, and I meant never.”

  A quick look revealed the child’s full lips quivering and two big, fat tears slowly slipped down her cheeks. Brett noticed that although her body softened in its tense stance, Triona’s stern expression never changed. Ella was a beautiful little girl and bright, but he suspected she was also one of those children who would always be in some sort of trouble.

  “Am I going to be punished?” Ella asked in a small, shaking voice.

  “Ye are. I will tell ye what that punishment will be on the morrow. For now we will get ye down off these walls and back to bed.”

  “But I didnae tell ye what my bad dream was.”

  Triona looked at her child and nearly shook her head. One had to be firm with Ella. She was a sharp-witted little girl, and her curiosity constantly got her into trouble. When Triona had seen her standing there on the walls, alone, her heart had leapt into her throat, and it was not really back where it belonged yet. For a moment she felt a horrible guilt over the fact that her child had walked into danger while she had been kissing Brett, but she quickly shook it off. The other times Ella had put herself in some danger, Triona had been doing nothing that could be called neglectful or selfish. The child had a knack for putting herself in some kind of trouble, even if one stood next to her holding her little hand.

  “Ye can tell me what it was as I take ye down from these walls and back to Peggy.”

  “Let me carry her down, lass,” Brett said as he stepped closer. “Ye have those skirts to watch out for.”

  For just one moment, Triona hesitated, finding herself reluctant to release her hold on Ella after seeing her in such danger, but then she nodded and handed Ella to Brett. The way the man settled Ella in his arms and told her to hold on to his neck made her certain he was no stranger to children. Ella revealed no fear of him, either, but clung tightly as he started to climb down the ladder that led to the bailey. Triona hurried to follow.

  “Mama, I saw a ghostie,” Ella said.

  “In your room?” Triona asked. “A bad ghostie or a good ghostie?”

  “A good ghostie, but I was still afraid. It was a lady and she smiled at me. I thought she was wanting to eat me up.”

  “Nay, ye didnae. Weel, unless she had some verra big teeth.”

  “They were nay that big, but I didnae like a ghostie in my room when I was supposed to be sleeping. I think that was rude.”

  “So ye climbed out of bed and came looking for me, wandering all over the place in your nightdress with nothing on your feet and, when ye saw me, decided ye would just climb all the way up onto the high, high walls to tell me that ye had a rude ghostie smiling at ye. Have I got that right?” Triona asked as she hopped down the last step to the ground and faced Ella, who still sat comfortably in Brett’s arms.

  “Aye,” Ella replied a little warily. “I thought ye would want to ken all about it.”

  “Ye could have called to me from down here. Ye could have woken up Peggy and had her bring ye to me. Ye could have asked any of the people I believe ye snuck around to bring ye here. Ye didnae have to come here all alone in the night.”

  “Aye, I could have. I am going to have to do a really big punishment, arenae I.”

  “I think it might be a verra big one.” She reached out to take Ella from Brett’s arms, ignoring the sharp amusement in his eyes. “I think ye ken it was a verra bad thing to do.”

  “Aye.” Ella stared at the lace-trimmed front of her gown and idly toyed with the brooch pinned at her shoulder. “I willnae have to wash anything, will I? I dinnae like washing things.”

  “I will think on it. Now say good night to Sir Brett, who so kindly carried ye down.”

  “Good night, Sir Brett. I promise I willnae climb up the walls again when ye are busy kissing my mama.”

  Brett bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing when Triona blushed so brightly he could see it in the dim light in the bailey. As she hurried back into the manor he saw the little girl looking at him over her mother’s shoulder, smiling at him in a way that told him she was a handful and probably always would be. Shaking his head, he turned around to find Brian standing behind him, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Kissing the lass who isnae your lass on the walls in the moonlight, were ye?” Brian asked, putting on a face so mournful it nearly made Brett laugh. “And seen by a poor, wee innocent lass, too. I am nay sure what to say about it.”

  “Nothing would be good,” drawled Brett. “And that child may be wee, but I begin to think one should nay call her innocent, nay as ye mean it. She is and probably always will be a wee bit of a devil.”

  Brian laughed. “Aye. I saw her tiptoe by, but didnae catch her ere she started up the walls. Decided it was safest to just be quiet and be there to catch her if she fell.”

  “Aye, startling her would have been a mistake.”

  “Nay fear in the wee lass.”

&n
bsp; “Nay sure that is a thing a mother would like to hear.”

  “True, a brave heart and daring when they are so small is a worry, but it will serve her weel when she is grown.”

  “True. And I must assume that ye are out here walking about because your wife still hasnae welcomed ye back into her arms.”

  “Soon. I understand now that I scratched at some old wounds, and I can be patient. She needs to see that my being a bit of a heartless bastard concerning Mavis doesnae make me the same sort of heartless bastard she was wed to in France.” He grinned when Brett laughed. “I will give her a few more days. I fell in love with a wounded lass, and I kenned it would be a while before all the wounds healed.”

  “Sad. I wish we had kenned what was happening. We would have been off to France on the next boat, and that bastard would have been dead and buried ere she e’en realized we had arrived.” Brett nodded toward the manor. “This lass doesnae have such wounds, but I think her husband and all that has happened with Sir John has left her skittish.”

  “Nay doubt. Harcourt and Callum are off looking for the trail of her men. Now that they ken a few things about it, I am thinking we will soon ken what has happened to them.”

  “They are good at tracking people down.”

  “Best I have e’er seen, and coming from the kin I do, ’tis a verra high compliment I just gave them. Just dinnae tell Harcourt. Your brother doesnae need anything else to feed his arrogance.”

  “Callum often says the same.”

  “So what are ye going to do about the lass?”

  Brett looked around the bailey, easily seeing all that was good about Banuilt. He felt comfortable here, welcomed and needed. It was a good feeling. Although he would never marry a woman for her land or coin, he could see himself settling in here with ease. Triona’s people already came to him for advice on occasion, accepting him as one who could and would help them. He liked the land that surrounded the manor, liked the people, and liked the fact that it was a peaceful place. The longer he stayed, the more reluctant he was to leave.

  The problem was that, if he decided he wished to stay with Triona, he was going to have to make sure she understood it was for her and not for Banuilt. Both her husband and Sir John were more concerned and more interested in Banuilt than her. Something like that could easily leave a woman doubtful of any man who expressed the desire to have her for his own. Since he himself had no lands and only a modest purse, he did not know how he would convince her that he was not after her properties. Brett knew she trusted him in most things, but also understood that old wounds could make her reluctant to trust in him when it came to the matter of marriage.

  A simple solution to the problem would be if he had an equal fortune, in both land and coin. He did not see that coming his way anytime soon, however. There were ways he might gain such things, but they could take a very long time, and it would be unfair to just leave her to find such wealth when he could not even tell her when he might return. At the moment he had no real plans to ask her to marry him, but he also knew he needed to think on the possibility that he might want to do so.

  Before he succeeded in seducing her, Brett knew he had to make a firm decision as to whether or not he truly wanted to stay with her. Triona was not a woman one seduced and then left. She was too tenderhearted and too innocent in so many ways. Despite how much he wanted her in his bed, he did not want to hurt Triona in any way, and he was certain that a woman like Triona would never be able to separate the needs of her heart from the needs of her body.

  “I need to be certain that I wish to stay with her ere I take the next step,” Brett said.

  “Seducing her into your bed, ye mean.”

  “Aye, that. I think that she is a woman that one cannae really take as a lover, enjoy, and then walk away from.”

  “Ye think she will fall in love with ye if ye bed her, is that it, ye coxcomb?”

  “Nay, Brian. I do think she is a woman who cannae keep desire separated from emotion, and I cannae allow myself to just ignore that. Triona is a woman who tries verra hard to hide all that passion I ken she has inside her, just as she tries to hide her soft heart because she wishes to be a strong, competent laird.”

  “That soft heart that tries to be understanding about her entire garrison deserting her and riding off to France?”

  “Aye, that soft heart.”

  “Ah, so ye are afraid ye might break her heart.”

  “What I am afraid of is that I will fall in love with her once I have looked too closely into that soft heart and tasted that passion she tries to hide.”

  Chapter Nine

  Triona straightened up from scrubbing the threshold stone of the cottage she was cleaning and rubbed her lower back. Now that they had so many extra men at Banuilt, she had decided it would be a good idea to clean and mend a few of the cottages. There were a few repairs that she and her women could not manage, but the places would certainly be livable again when they were done. The skilled warriors could remain within Banuilt while a few of the men in training could move into the cottages for a while, giving them all a little more room. At the moment her back and knees were complaining loudly about that plan.

  A part of her prayed that she would soon have her own garrison needing to be housed. There had been no word from Sirs Harcourt and Callum yet, but she had finally allowed a small piece of hope to embed itself into her heart. Both Brett and Sir Brian were confident that if anyone could find something out about where her men had gone, those two men could. She badly wanted the garrison back, and not just for the protection of Banuilt; she had come to know all the men in the garrison very well during her years of marriage and hated to think they were suffering somewhere.

  The heated embrace she had shared with Brett last night had almost made her change her mind as to who should move into the village. The depth of what he had made her feel frightened her a little. A woman’s simple desire for a man was something she had felt she could deal with, perhaps even find some way to satisfy it, and her own curiosity about it, without everyone at Banuilt knowing what she had done. Brett made her feel so much more than that, however. He stirred far more than just her body’s needs; he set hope in her heart and dreams of a future in her mind. That was dangerous.

  That was when Triona had briefly considered moving him and his men to the village. It would have put a nice safe distance between them, but she finally had to admit that it would have been cowardly of her. It could also have been seen as an insult to men who had freely offered their aid to Banuilt. And it would have been useless, she thought, as it was but a short walk from the manor to the village, and she and Brett would be coming face-to-face every day as he worked to help her, trained her men, and dined with her. He would still be a strong temptation to her. In fact, she thought with an inner grimace over her own weakness for the man, she would probably have to send him to France to have any hope of easing the temptation he presented.

  Joan stepped out of the cooper’s cottage with a bucket of water that was blackened from the cleaning of the hearth, and moved to toss it on the ground a short distance away. “I am nay sure why we are bothering to clean these places,” she said as she looked at the threshold stone Triona had just cleaned. “’Tis men ye are meaning to put in here, and they willnae notice all the work we have done. Struth, they will be quick to dirty it all up again and then look about for us to come and clean it again.”

  Laughing as she stood up and brushed off her skirts, Triona nodded. “Verra true. ’Tis needed, though. The manor is too full of men. E’en the peel tower that houses the garrison is getting crowded. Our untrained but eager garrison plus twelve more? Far too many. And I think it was needed anyway. We have left the cottages empty and uncared for, for far too long.”

  “Aye, ye are right about that.” Joan glanced at the other cottages already cleaned or being cleaned by the other women. “It was looking sad here. I grew weary of looking at them some days. ’Tis as if each empty cottage was whispering that we hav
e lost the fight and it would break my heart each time.”

  “I got that feeling myself from time to time. It all began to carry that air of defeat. I dinnae think I could have abided it for verra much longer anyway.”

  “And now that there will be some men in the village at night, I suspicion some of the women will go back to their own homes. Alone as we were, we felt much safer crowded together. Aye, there were still a few men about, but e’en they kenned they were little protection—being mostly old, infirm, or nay more than beardless lads. At least the ones returning here will ken which end of the sword ye should stick in a mon.”

  Triona had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from telling Joan all she feared about their real garrison. Joan was so worried about Aiden, and yet she never complained. Until Triona had some word of what had happened to the men, however, telling Joan her fears would only worry her even more. Waiting, unable to do anything and not knowing the fate of the men, was a hell she did not wish to inflict upon her friend.

  “And they will continue to be trained,” Triona assured her. “Every day. I am nay certain how long my cousin, her husband, and his men will stay, but Sir Brett and his men have all vowed to stay until the troubles we suffer are ended.”

  “Aye, so I heard from Angus. That Sir Brett is a verra fine-looking mon, and I be thinking he likes the look of ye, m’lady.” Joan laughed when Triona blushed.

  “He certainly is a verra fine-looking mon,” Triona agreed, “as they all are. And mayhap he does gaze at me warmly, but he isnae staying here. He and his men will help us because they see a need and are honorable men who see the injustice in what we are suffering. They will do as they have promised, but then they will leave, as they all have homes and kin to return to. And I will admit to ye that I feel most warmly toward him, but ye dinnae need to fear that I will act upon that.”

  “And why should it trouble me if ye did?”

  “Weel, I am the laird, and I should behave respectfully, with all honor and virtue.”