Rogue Highlander: The Lady Sparrow

by Sondra Grey

  “We’ve not been married but give days,” said Adam, shrugging, “What is there to tell?”

  Duncan frowned at his brother. “You spent five days riding in her company. You must have learned something about her.”

  Adam didn’t like feeling embarrassed. The truth was that he’d asked more questions about the estate than he had about Annis, and when she’d fended off his advances, had grown surly and found it easier to ignore her.

  “I see,” said Duncan, “May I suggest you remedy that? For goodness sake, what would our own mother say to you?”

  Adam grimaced.

  “Exactly,” said Duncan. After a moment of silence, he added, “To hear her man, Lachlan, speak of her, she’d kind, intelligent, and quiet. Apparently, her last husband was a miser.”

  “He sounds it,” said Adam, sourly. “And if the man couldn’t even protect his own property…” He shook his head. “She’ll do. She smells sweet, she’s meek enough, but has a stubborn streak, and she looks well when she’s wearing blue.”

  Duncan laughed at his brother’s assessment. “For someone who’s bedded a good number of the fairer sex, Adam, you’ve a lot to learn about women.”

  Adam waved a hand. He had a series of more important tasks to see to: like fixing up his new estate and bringing the Camerons to heal. He’d time to get to know his wife, he was certain.

  “Tell me what needs work at the manor house,” he ordered, changing the subject.

  Shaking his head, Adam’s brother began to recount the list of repairs he’d noticed.

  It was dark when they got back, and Adam was delighted to see that Annis had busied herself making dinner. There was roasted pig, fresh bread, and wild leeks and sorrel. There wasn’t much spice to be had, but the meal was hearty, and Adam was famished.

  Annis, looking better for a wash and a change of gown (Adam would have to see about getting her new gowns), sat beside Adam’s brother Duncan.

  Adam, meanwhile sat with Annis’ men, Caleb and Lachlan, and peppered them with questions about the old Laird of Inveralt, his tacksmen, and their trouble with the Camerons. It seemed as if Lachlan and Caleb had been born and raised in Achnanellan. Their wives had worked in the castle and befriended Annis when she’d moved into the estate, which was the only reason, Lachlan and Caleb stayed behind when everyone else had taken off with David MacDonnell’s possessions.

  Adam was deep in conversation when he heard his wife laugh. Blinking, he turned to see his brother smiling from ear to ear, and Annis beaming at something Duncan had said.

  Irrational irritation shot through Adam. She’d not laughed like that with him. And his brother wasn’t the least bit entertaining, either. Duncan was a serious sort, and anyone finding amusement in his company was unusual.

  Annis took a quick liking to Duncan Maclean. Where Adam was changeable – charming one moment, dismissive the next – Duncan was solid in temperament and engaging. He asked her questions about her life before her marriage to David, and about how the estate under David had run. He asked her about her mother (who had died when Annis was just a girl) and about her father and his relationship with James III.

  Annis found herself telling him all about her father and about her upbringing and her life with David.

  Annis shook her head. “I was raised to run a keep like this,” she said. “But David wouldn’t let me near the finances, wouldn’t let me oversee the planting, or the purchasing of cattle or horses. I wasn’t allowed to hire any of the help, either.”

  She didn’t add that David’s vocal derision of her had caused everyone else in the castle to treat her like an idiotic child. She’d found solace in routine, cooking, or doing other household chores.

  “Well, if it’s any consolation to you, my brother can be very helpless on occasion,” said Duncan wryly. “Though he might not ask for it, I’ve a feeling he’s going to need a great deal of help.”

  He’d given his brother such a look of bewildered frustration that Annis had laughed out loud. Duncan had laughed too and had leaned closer to tell her embarrassing stories from when Adam was a boy.

  When Annis looked up, Adam was frowning at them, clearly irritated at their conversation. Annis pretended she hadn’t seen his displeasure and gave herself over to Duncan’s stories.

  “What lies is he telling you, Sparrow?” called Adam, a few minutes later, after Duncan’s tale of Adam’s first time on a horse set Annis nearly to tears. Annis looked up again to see that her husband had entirely changed his demeanor, going from irritated to interested. He sat relaxed in his chair, eyes sparkling as he looked on her.

  “No lies, brother,” said Duncan, easily. “But I thought your wife should be aware of what an idiot she married.”

  “Did you tell her about the incident at Craignur?” One of the clansmen called from down the table.

  Adam covered his face with his hands and groaned aloud.

  “Don’t you worry,” said Duncan to Adam. “By the time I’m finished with your lady, she won’t have a drop of respect for you.”

  Adam stood, pulling his chair away from the table. “In that case,” he said, “I’d better get my lady away from you and your terrible tales. Come Sparrow,” he commanded, not waiting for her to respond, but lifting her gently from her chair and guiding her out of the hall.

  “Where are we…”

  “You’ve put me off four nights now, Lady,” said Adam, voice silky in her ear. “I’m going to remind you what it was you’ve been saying no to.”

  Chapter 8

  A nnis woke the next morning feeling deliciously pleased. All that earlier anxiety about marriage to Adam had been erased last night. He’d been attentive, gentle, insistent, and tireless. He’d called her pet names, kissed her senseless, and when they were through, and settling down, he told her of the estate. He told her about the dam they had found and dismantled, of the water that would now fill the fields and turn the crops fertile. He told her he planned to go to market in the coming weeks and replenish the livestock.

  He’d held her to his chest, and she’d felt a strange, almost desperate need to be even closer to him. She’d snuggled in hard, and he’d chuckled into her hair. They’d fallen asleep entwined. It was everything she’d ever dreamed her marriage to be.

  Now that she was awake, she was eager to steal another few minutes in Adam’s arms. Annis rolled over and reached out, but Adam was gone. Startled, Annis sat up and realized that she’d fallen asleep without a stitch of clothing on.

  A memory came back to her – she’d tried to put on her nightgown after they had made love, but Adam had bid her stay, called her beautiful. It was the first time in her life anyone had ever called her beautiful. Remembering it now, her head spun once more with the joy of it.

  She stared down at the length of her body, seeing herself with new eyes.

  Annis took a longer time dressing than she usually did. She’d never before cared much about her looks, but Adam’s comments made her want to look beautiful for him. She owned one blue gown, and while it wasn’t a particularly pleasing color blue, at least it wasn’t brown. She fussed with her hair until giving up and tying it back (she’d ask Elise to teach her a more flattering style than a simple braid).

  Descending the stairs, she hoped to find Adam and the Macleans at breakfast, but nobody was in the hall. After checking the library, and the receiving rooms near the front entrance, Annis made her way towards the back of the manor.

  “Where is everyone?” asked Annis, entering the kitchen to find Cait and Elise washing breakfast dishes.

  “Gone,” said Elise, frowning. “Your husband sent them all on errands. He and his brother rode off towards Argdour to see what was keeping his clansmen. Apparently there were supposed to be fifty men here already.”

  “Fifty!”

  “So, he sent other men out searching for food enough to feed fifty men. There are still others trying to hire folk from the villages to staff the manner. At least five Macleans went out to see how the
water was flowing now that the river’s been undammed.”

  “Adam left?” Annis repeated. Argdour was a day’s ride east. He wouldn’t be home tonight, and he’d left without saying a word to her. For a moment, Annis was reminded of when David would do the same. He would leave early in the morning, before she’d awoken, and he’d ride into the village to see his mistress. She took a deep breath and refused to cry.

  It was entirely strange that Colm Maclean had not sent the fifty men that Adam had requested. Adam’s cousin held Argdour, and was a chieftain of Clan Maclean, usually responsive to any call that came from the Hector or one of his sons.

  “I half expected to meet our clansmen on the road,” grumbled Duncan, scanning the horizon and seeing no such contingent of men. “What do you think has kept him?”

  “Could be a number of things,” Adam mused, unwilling to believe that his kinsman had snubbed his request. Colm would appreciate the importance of having a place like Inveralt staffed with clansmen. “We’ll ask him when we get there.”

  It took longer to reach Argdour than either of the brothers anticipated. As they crossed east, the River Loy met with a larger straight and widened to the point where it was too deep for the horses to cross. There was a well-trod bridge that spanned the narrowest point of the straight. The Macleans had arrived to find the bridge dismantled. They’d had to ride around the river mouth and ride several extra leagues towards the north, where water finally turned shallow and the horses could cross. The detour took them nearly three hours out of their way.

  By the time the brothers and their men arrived at Argdour, both Duncan and Adam were in terrible moods.

  The Castle at Argdour wasn’t nearly as magnificent as the castle at Duart, but it was sturdy and the gates were open as the brothers and their men rode up. Colm and Hector’s fathers had been brothers. Colm’s had inherited the chieftainship from Robert and defended the Maclean’s easternmost territory.

  As the brother’s rode into the courtyard, it was Colm himself who came out to greet them. “Cousins,” barked the Maclean Chieftain. Colm was dark, like Duncan and like their father, but was a good head shorter than Adam and his brother. Younger than Hector, Colm had children, but his sons would be twelve and fourteen now. The last time Adam had visited Argdour the youngest boy was still sitting in his mother’s lap.

  “Cousin,” hailed Duncan in return.

  “To what do we owe the unexpected visit?” said Colm, coming up to take the bridle of Duncan’s horse. Duncan swung off his mount and Adam did the same.

  “We’d have been here hours ago, but the bridge at Dordonnough is out.”

  Colm cocked his head at the news. “It was in fine working condition last month when I rode our borders. Strange.”

  “We thought we’d meet you on the road,” said Adam. “Did you not get my missive?”

  “I did, aye,” said Colm.

  “Then why did you not meet me at Inveralt?”

  Colm’s dark brows drew low over his black eyes. “You did send me two messages, lad. The first was to meet you at Inveralt. The second was that my men were not needed.”

  Adam blinked. “I sent only one message, from Edinburgh. It should have arrived days ago.”

  “It did. And the second arrived not a day after.”

  Adam met Duncan’s gaze, Duncan looked thoughtful. “Do you have the message still, Colm?”

  “Somewhere,” said Colm, looking confused.

  Adam’s hackles were beginning to rise. “How fast can your men be ready to ride for Inveralt?”

  “At this hour?”

  “Yes.”

  “In two hours I can have at least twenty men ready to ride. Cousins, what am I missing.”

  “Show us the letter,” said Duncan. “My brother sent you only one. If you received a second letter telling you to leave your men here, then someone didn’t want you to send any men to Inveralt. And it was not Adam.”

  Adam shook his head, dread growing in his gut. “The bridge was out,” he repeated to Duncan. His brother nodded. “And was not out last month,” Adam pressed.

  “Come Adam,” said Duncan, firmly. “We’ll see the letter and ride out immediately.”

  “We’ll be too late,” said Adam between his teeth.

  Colm eyed the brothers curiously, but dawning soon crossed his face. He began barking orders. Maclean clansmen, who’d come out into the courtyard to greet Adam’s party, began rushing about, and there were sound of shouting coming from inside the keep as orders were relayed.

  “Come with me,” said Colm, striding up the stairs and into the cool grey interior of Argdour castle. “The man who brought the second letter wore your colors, cousin…”

  “Regardless of the colors he wore, he was not my man, which begs a further question: where did he get our tartan.”

  As they reached the Chieftains study, Colm rifled through a stack of papers, producing two notes.

  “But these are in completely different hands!” Adam exclaimed, taking the notes and pouring over them.

  “Forgive me cousin,” said Colm, solemnly. “I thought you might have dictated one or both of the notes and was not looking at the preciseness of the hand.”

  “There are several problems with this,” Duncan said softly. “This letter directly references the note you sent to Colm, which means either someone read it during Blaire’s journey to Argdour, or someone in the castle read it and passed on the information to the Camerons.”

  “Are you suggesting that there are Cameron spies on my household,” said Colm darkly. “I assure you that the men who serve here have served me for years.”

  “You never know what a man might do if offered enough money,” Duncan suggested, lightly.

  “Or perhaps one of your men was sleeping with a village lass and said something,” said Adam, hurriedly, when it was clear Colm took offense at Duncan’s suggestion. “Either way, the information I sent you was compromised.”

  Colm swore.

  This type of deviance was trademark of the Camerons. Adam had no doubt that it was the Camerons who’d set up the dam so that the water wouldn’t flow to Inveralt. He’d no doubt that it was the Camerons who’d sent the second letter and who had dismantled the bridge so that it would take the Macleans more time to get to Argdour. Why?

  To sack Inveralt.

  “We need to leave at once,” hissed Adam.

  “Agreed,” said Duncan. “Let us go.”

  Chapter 9

  “W here are you off to?” Caleb looked up from where he was sitting outside the stables; the torn bridle in his hand was clearly in a state of half-repair. Caleb’s father had been a cottar and Caleb had taken it upon himself to work small repairs around the estate.

  “I’m going to walk down to the fields,” said Annis, who’d taken David’s old walking stick to help keep some of the weight off her still healing ankle. “I’d like to see whether or not the water returned enough to reach the fields. Then I thought I’d go see if I could find some wild garlic.”

  She needed the walk to clear her head. Before he’d left, Adam had locked the study, and Annis didn’t know where he’d hidden the key, so she couldn’t sit down with the accounts. She’d spent the morning with Cait, baking bread and plucking chickens, but she was in such a foul mood that even Cait’s cheery whistling had gotten on her nerves. It was Elise who’d suggested the walk.

  “Would you like company?” asked Caleb.

  Annis shook her head. “Don’t worry. Elise says that there are at least three Macleans working on clearing the dead brush out of the field. I’m sure I’ll see them when I walk over.”

  “As you wish, Lady,” said Caleb, still not looking too comfortable. Annis gave him a small smile and walked off. The gardens and the fields at Inveralt wanted a great deal of work. She was anxious for the Macleans to come back from the village with folk to help. She had a vision for what she wanted the garden to be. She’d asked David for the resources to spruce it up, and he’d flatly denied th
em to her. She had a feeling that Adam would say yes. She hoped Adam would say yes.

  She realized she wasn’t sure what Adam would say or do. Last night he’d been a thoughtful and confiding lover. But he’d left this morning without word to her, not a goodbye kiss, or a farewell.

  She’d been thinking about it all day, and all day she’d been irritated by it.

  “Husbands don’t have to tell their wives when they come or when they go,” Elise reminded her. But his dismissal reminded her too much of David.

  “Would Lachlan leave without telling you?” asked Annis.

  Elise had blushed and mumbled something under her breath. Of course he wouldn’t. Because Lachlan loved and respected Elise.

  Annis sighed. Of course Adam didn’t love her. They had known each other barely a week. And yet, it had taken Annis only one week to become enamored of him. He was attractive and virile and had promised to make a palace out of her home. More importantly, she greatly enjoyed yesterday with his brother and kin, who’d been kind and courteous to her. The MacDonnells had rarely visited Inveralt. The few times they had, they’d stayed only a night or two, and it was clear they’d no fondness for David. Last night, it was clear that the Macleans thought the world of Adam, and felt comfortable enough in his presence to both tease him and do as he bid them.

  All in all, she knew she could have done worse in an arranged marriage. She just needed to give both of them some time. As soon as that realization hit, she felt better for it.

  She was halfway between the manor and the field, walking slowly along a patch of rough road, when she heard someone whistling. For a moment she thought it was coming from behind her, but as she turned and saw no one, she realized it was coming from the woods to her left.