Rogue Highlander: The Lady Sparrow

by Sondra Grey

  Whatever state it was in, Adam wasn’t averse to hard work. He may have the reputation as a hedonist, but he’d always worked hard for his pleasures. And there was certainly pleasure to be had in a life at Inveralt. He’d money enough now to see to it.

  Adam would also be lying to say that he wasn’t somewhat pleased in having a slightly plainer wife. His father had told him often enough, “Beautiful women will only cause you trouble.”

  Dark Hector Maclean had married a fair MacBeth and Adam’s mother was a handful. Adam had bedded enough beauties to become exhausted with their expectations, their demands… No, he’d not been lying when he bragged to his men about wanting a plain wife. A man did not hurry home to a plain wife. He was not distracted by a plain wife, and so Annis Black and Inveralt would suit him nicely.

  There was, of course, the small problem of first impressions. He’d been exhausted when he’d received James’ summons to Edinburgh and not happy to have been slowed up by the storm and forced to wrestle that beast horse (whom he’d won off a Bavarian just months before). To then be slowed down more by a pilgrim, and a helpless one, had been the final straw. He’d broken and lost his temper.

  And to her credit, the Sparrow had dealt with adversity admirably. She was no delicate daffodil, that was certain. But Adam had better charm her and quickly. He’d be at war with the Camerons soon enough. He didn’t need strife in his marriage bed or in his home. No. There would be peace in his home. And if anyone could charm a bird to eat from his hand, it was Adam Maclean.

  He’d concocted a plan by the time he strode into dinner, and was entirely put off when the first courses came around and Annis was nowhere to be seen.

  He waited as long as he could before asking James if he’d heard of her whereabouts. James looked startled, as if he’d quite forgotten his ward. He summoned a servant who came back a moment later to whisper that the Lady Black was nursing her sprained ankle in her room. Disappointed, and surprised by the intensity of the emotion, Adam resisted the urge to sprint to her door and bid his time at dinner by consuming more than a few pints of the King’s best ale. So what if Annis Black had not come to dinner? Her lack of appearance wasn’t a slight at him.

  And yet Adam felt slighted. He expected someone like Annis Black might be pleased to wed the handsome, virile son of the Maclean Chief. And yet, she was hiding in her rooms. Well, he thought to himself, taking another draught of ale, she could try to hide from him, but she wasn’t going to succeed.

  Alone again in her room, Annis tried to cheer herself up. Her marriage to Adam certainly couldn’t be any worse than her marriage to David. Her life before, with David hadn’t been so bad, had it? David had mostly avoided her, left her to her own devices. Perhaps with Maclean, she might restore the grounds. Turn Inveralt into a working farm again. At least the Macleans would help protect her land from the Camerons.

  She sighed. She shouldn’t get her hopes up too much. What if he used his fists when he was angry? What if he was a drunkard?

  There was a knock on her door and Annis sat up on her sofa, stomach growling and called. “Enter.” All she needed was some food – just a little…AH!

  The man who entered carrying the tray was certainly not from the kitchens. Adam Maclean still wore his finery from earlier that morning, but now had a big smile and slightly rosy cheeks to match the elegant polish of his clothes.

  “How am I do enjoy a betrothal dinner without my betrothed?” He asked, gesturing grandly with his free hand before hauling a side table over as if the heavy wood weighted nothing. He deposited the tray atop the table and presented Annis with a fine array of food such as she’d rarely seen at Inveralt. Resisting the impulse to fall on the food before David could tell her she’d “had enough,” Annis sat back and observed Adam Maclean, who was standing there, clearly waiting for her thanks.

  “Thank you,” she said, and hated that it came out sounding begrudging. Why should she begrudge him anything? It wasn’t like he’d petitioned the king for Inveralt after her husband’s death… had he?

  “Well eat up before it gets cold,” he ordered. Picking up her feet gently, he sat himself at the edge of her couch and propped them on his lap.

  Annis nearly upset her tray at the sudden and unwarranted familiarity. But Adam seemed not to notice. He’d slid her skirts up to her ankles and was unwrapping the bandage the doctor had put there last night.

  “Lovely color,” he murmured beneath his breath. Then he looked up and smiled at her again. “I forgive you for not appearing at dinner this evening. It does indeed seem that this ankle is beautifully sprained.”

  His hands were warm and familiar on her skin and Annis forced herself to sit up straight. Maybe wishing for a handsome husband was a bad idea. This close to Adam Maclean, she found it difficult to hang onto her irritation.

  “You’ve delivered dinner, Sir, and it was very kind of you,” said Annis, formally. “And you’ve observed for yourself that I was not attempting to be rude in my dismissal. Is there anything else you wish of me, or may I eat my dinner in peace?”

  Adam grinned broadly. “By all means, eat your dinner. But I fear I have no intention of leaving you in peace. I thought you might tell me of Inveralt,” he said, “So that I may know the affairs of my estate before I arrive.”

  His estate. Annis shrugged mentally. She supposed it was his estate now, or rather, it would be after tomorrow morning. It had never really been hers after all – just part of her dowry.

  She realized, suddenly, that he was rubbing absently at the arch of her foot. She shifted, dislodging his hand and he looked down and frowned. “Don’t you like to have your feet rubbed?” He asked.

  “Are you drunk?” Annis returned.

  Maclean considered her question. “Marginally.”

  Perfect. Her betrothed was a drunkard. “I don’t particularly enjoy having my feet rubbed,” Annis lied. In fact, she wouldn’t know whether she liked it or not since no one had ever rubbed her feet before.

  “You’re lying,” said Maclean. “No man I know dislikes a foot rub.”

  “I’m not a man.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” He let her feet go, put them back on the sofa, and went to find himself a chair, which he promptly pulled up.

  “You should eat that,” he said, taking a slice of beef for himself. He chewed as he settled himself in his chair. “Now.” He said, mouth full. “Tell me of Inveralt. From all I’ve been able to read from the King, it seems I am to inherit a pit of dried up earth.”

  Annis sighed. She supposed she should be grateful that he was asking her at all. David would not have.

  “To run an estate like Inveralt takes money. David was tightfisted with his sums. When he died, we found that he’d hoarded a great deal of money, though to what purpose he never told me. That’s all gone now. It turns out he never paid his tacksmen, left them dependent on him. They took every penny.”

  “So, no money went into the land and there’s no money left to tend it.”

  “I’ve a dowry that David never dared ask the king for,” said Annis.

  Adam nodded. “That is in my possession already. And I’ve a goodly sum from my tournaments in Europe. But think you, with a bit of labor, the land will yield?”

  Annis shrugged helplessly. “When we first moved there it was fruitful, but the river that fed the fields had all but dried up these past few years. We never figured out how or why.”

  At that Adam frowned. “I’ve ridden past the River Loy too many times to count. It’s a bountiful river and has not dried up in any place I’ve seen.”

  Annis shrugged. “I know little of irrigation and farming, unfortunately. I only know what David has lamented.”

  “Someone must have dammed it,” said Adam, shrugging. “No matter, we’ll find out where and fix it.”

  “What is it that you plan for Inveralt?”

  “To make it the gem of the Maclean holding,” said Adam grandly, leaning back and kicking his feet out. Golden as he wa
s, he looked like a lounging lion. It was that scar that kept him from looking like a true man of leisure. The scar made him look dangerous.

  “How did you get that?” she asked him. It truly was impressive, and the more she saw it, the more she thought it only amplified his appeal.

  “‘Twas a gift from Ewan Cameron,” he said, without elaborating. “And one day, I’ll pay the bastard back in kind.” This was added lightly, but it sent a chill through Annis. She’d seen him manhandling his horse in the storm. As good-humored as he was drunk, she could not forget that he had a temper.

  “Eat something,” he insisted, taking another bite from her plate. “The King employs only the finest chefs.”

  She’d better eat something, or he’d eat it all himself. And yet, she didn’t want to eat in front of him. She had the sudden image of David staring at her over the dinner table and frowning. Don’t you think you’ve had enough? Lord, how much do you need to eat? You’ll beggar us with that appetite!

  But before she could stop him, Adam had reached into her dinner with his fingers, tore off a piece of beef and pressed it to her lips. Her options were either ‘open her mouth’ or ‘let it fall on her dressing gown’ so she opened her mouth for the intrusion of his fingers. He placed the beef delicately on her tongue.

  “There’s a girl,” he said, smugly, as Annis chewed. Good God, she had to try not to moan with pleasure. When was the last time she’d had beef like this? They’d milk cattle in Inveralt, but the Camerons had stolen their beef cattle three summers ago, and David had neither retaliated nor purchased more.

  “So, tell me of this husband of yours. Did you love him?”

  Annis frowned. “If I did, that would certainly be an insensitive question.”

  “Then you didn’t. Just as well. Eat more.”

  He reached in, grabbed another piece and brought it to her lips. Annis grabbed his hand before he could feed her like a child. She picked the piece up and put it in her mouth. But her stomach didn’t want to swallow it. She got like this sometimes, when she was upset. Her stomach was the first thing to go.

  Adam pursed his lips at her in feigned disapproval.

  “May I inquire, my lord, if your disposition is always this mercurial?”

  “Mercurial? My disposition?” Adam asked, leaning forward. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You were surly in the woods, lascivious in the hall, and now you’re all playful solicitation. What am I to expect next?”

  Adam lifted his shoulders as if shrugging off her critique. “On the other hand, Sparrow, you have been consistently churlish. Besides my irritation at being forced to assist a stranger to Edinburgh, what ills have I done you? If you’re worried about my suitability as a husband, you needn’t be. I am a King’s Knight, I answer to James. I’m a Maclean, and our motto is virtue and honor. I have a small fortune of my own, I’ll not beat you – unless you do something terrible to warrant it. I am to see your land and manor restored to its former glory. I do not know what else you wish of me, but I don’t think I deserve your censure.”

  Annis took a deep breath. Perhaps he wasn’t as drunk as he seemed. And he was right. She was upset that she did not get to choose her next husband, but if what Adam said was true – and James seemed to think it was – then she was indeed lucky. Would David have come to her room with dinner? No. He would not have.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to him. “My pride was pricked on our ride here. And I came to Edinburgh to ask James for guards, not a husband. I suppose I am not angry at you, rather at the situation, and you are the nearest thing at hand to be angry at.”

  Adam blinked at her, as if he hadn’t been expecting the speech. His gaze grew interested. “I accept your apology,” he said. “Might we try to get off on a better foot, since we’re to be married tomorrow?”

  Annis nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. Then I’ll tell you I’d feel better if you were to eat something. I’ve no wish for you to fall into a faint at the altar tomorrow.”

  No wonder the serving women were all agog over him. He was incredibly charming. But the thought of the serving women, of Lady Abercrombie, set Annis’ stomach off again.

  “Eat,” said Adam, blue eyes tracking her hands as they hovered over the food. Annis tried to get her stomach to settle. She reached for a roasted carrot and popped it into her mouth. Her stomach revolted and it took all her energy to swallow the thing without gagging.

  “If you don’t mind,” she said. “I’d prefer not to eat just now.”

  Adam’s blond brows drew low over his eyes. “Suit yourself,” he said. Silence descended and crackled between them. He was waiting for something, but she didn’t know what he was waiting for. She tried to sip at her wine. That seemed safe enough.

  After minutes of silence, she said, “Was there something else I could help you with?”

  Adam pursed his lips. “I could think of several things, but I’m not sure you’d agree to any of them.” As if that realization settled something, he stood, beaming. “Which I suppose means I should take my leave. We’ll have enough time to get acquainted tomorrow evening,” he winked at her, and headed towards the door, whistling that same tune from earlier.

  Suddenly alone, Annis collapsed back into her pillows. She should have felt relieved. His actions and his speech seemed to suggest that he was at least interested in getting to know her. So why was she so out of sorts? Because she’d liked the feel of his hand on her ankle. Because she couldn’t stop looking at his face. Because she wanted to stroke her fingers over that scar…

  Shaking her head, she stared fretfully over her shoulder and out into the night. Her life with David had been boring and busy. She had a feeling that life with Adam Maclean was not going to be boring. Was she ready for the upheaval?

  Chapter 5

  T wo years separated Adam from the birthright of the Chieftainship, and from Duarte castle. Duncan was the brother sent off to foster with the Macleods, Adam was the brother raised on the Isle of Mull, taught to fight in defense of his brother and the clan. As a second son, Adam was expected to settle down in a small manor home near Duarte, to serve his brother Duncan when called upon. Adam had never been happier than the day his father sent him off to seek his fortune in James’ court.

  Mere hours after James had promised him Inveralt, Adam had sent word immediately to his father and to the Macleans of Argdour, both of whom would send men to help settle and defend Inveralt. He expected at least fifty men would meet him at the Keep. His father would send at least twenty, and Adam had a feeling his brother would number among the riders. Hector Maclean had always been critical of Duncan, and if there was an excuse to get away from Duarte for a time, Duncan always took it. Adam was eager to see his brother. It had been a least a year since he had clapped eyes on Duncan, and his brother’s steady, thoughtful presence had always been a good balance for Adam’s more temperamental, impetuous one.

  For his wedding, Adam dressed with care. As he dressed, he thought of what it might be like, to return to farming after years spent fighting in tournaments. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be all that different: if the King was worried about the Camerons, he probably had good cause. Adam expected some trouble from them, though he hoped the trouble could wait until he’d settled in a bit.

  As he combed his hair back off his face, Adam took another look in the glass. The scar bothered him, as Ewan Cameron had known it would. The two had crossed paths in a border skirmish not four years prior. Adam had been knocked senseless and taken hostage. Ewan had him tied, beaten, and the Cameron’s third son had, himself, carved Adam’s face. It was Adam’s cousin Rae who’d led the raid to retrieve Adam.

  That it was Adam now taking control of Inveralt would send Ewan into a frenzy, Adam was certain. Ewan was one of Lochiel Cameron’s younger sons who, like Adam, had long coveted the riches Inveralt promised.

  After a few more minutes primping, Adam was ready to face fate and tie himself to the little
brown bird. He headed for the chapel.

  There weren’t many courtiers in residence, and those who were there, hadn’t made much effort to attend a brief and impromptu wedding. But two of Adam’s clansmen were there (they’d been only two hours’ ride behind him), and his man Simon stood up at the alter with him.

  “Are you anxious?” Simon asked, curious. As a young boy, Simon had followed Adam around, and when Adam made his move to the capitol and was knighted by James, he’d taken Simon on as his squire. Simon’s father was a cottar, and though Simon was small, he was efficient with a short sword and a good man to have at one’s side.

  “Not a wit,” said Adam, and it was true. He wasn’t anxious to wed, he was eager. He was eager to secure Inveralt legally, and he was eager to see if the Sparrow had any skill in the bedroom. Adam wondered, absently, if now that he was married he’d be faithful. He smirked. The idea amused him. In his head, he heard his mother muttering about leopards and spots. Lord, what would Agnes Abercrombie say if she knew he was about to be wed.

  “I’ve not yet laid eyes on your lady,” said Simon, watching the door – which would open any minute now.

  “She’s pleasing enough,” said Adam. He could understand why some might call her plain. Her hair and eyes were an indistinguishable shade of brown, her nose slightly broader and her mouth a bit wider than was fashionable in court– but Adam didn’t find her displeasing. Alone in her room, wearing borrowed night-clothes, her hair feathering about her face, eyes trying hard to hide an attraction to him, Adam had found her quite pleasing to look at. She was certainly well endowed: large breasts, a neat waist, generous hips…

  “Are you worried that she might not bear you an heir?” Simon asked. “I hear she was married eight years to a husband and had no children.”