The Scot's Deception (Highland Swords Book 5)

by Keira Montclair

  “I’d like to bear witness to that myself,” Uncle Jamie said. “We can only hope he’s right.” He nodded to Derric and Dyna. “Stay, and we’ll decide who to send to King Robert with you. The others can leave, if you like.”

  Maggie stood up and headed to the door. “I don’t think you’ll need Molly and me for anything else. We’ll stay one more night to help train before we take our leave back to Ramsay Castle to ready our group for Midsummer’s Day. Torrian, does this suit you?”

  “Aye, I need to ensure our land is properly protected. We’re not far from Berwick Castle, so we should find out quickly if the English are on the move.”

  Molly and Maggie left, and Chrissa had to hold back not to chase after them, just for the pleasure of training with them one more time, but she needed confirmation that she and Drostan would be allowed to travel to the king’s camp.

  She had to know.

  She needed to know for herself and for Drostan.

  Her mother surprised her by getting right to the point. “So Dyna, you and Derric will head out, leave your two bairns here with your mother and Claray?”

  “Aye,” Dyna said, glancing at her husband to see if he had anything to add.

  “We’ll leave on the morrow,” Derric said. Glancing at Dyna, he added, “Your mama has already said she’ll watch the bairns. He turned to the lairds then. “Who shall we take with us? I leave it to you to choose.”

  Chrissa’s heart beat so hard in her chest that she feared they could all hear it.

  Uncle Connor named off several warriors, and the very last one he named was Drostan. That came as a relief, because she wouldn’t have to use any of the half-formed arguments she’d thought of to convince them to take him. Now, she only had to convince them to take her. She tried hard to act disinterested, but that was a lie to everyone. They all knew how badly she wished to go, although she doubted they knew of her interest in Drostan.

  Or perhaps they did. He had tried to punch Torrian.

  Uncle Connor glanced at her mother and father, the silent question as obvious as if it had been spoken. Chrissa held her breath as she waited, saying a quick prayer that her mother would finally relent and allow her to do something meaningful.

  It was time for her to make her own legacy.

  Her father looked at her mother, who gave him a small nod before turning to face her. “Chrissa, we’ll allow you to go, but I’ll be giving Derric and Dyna strict instructions about watching you, and you’re not to cause any trouble. None. Do you agree? In fact, I’ll send extra warriors just in case you need to be sent home for not following orders, understood?”

  “Hell, aye,” she blurted out, then turning a deep shade of red. She cleared her throat, doing her best to look sheepish over her outburst.

  Her mother’s gaze narrowed again—a thinly veiled threat for all to see.

  Grandsire remarked, “Kyla, I do think your daughter is mature enough to recognize that her part in this is to follow directions. She’ll act differently than she does on Grant land. If not, she’ll pay the price. Being captured or injured by the enemy is not something she wishes to risk. Is that not true, Chrissa?”

  Chrissa blushed. She’d thought to say something more, to convince them she was serious, but Grandsire had said it all. They’d given her what she wanted—and she understood the dangers that lay ahead.

  Then Grandsire surprised her with his last comment. “I’m sure you’ll keep King Robert entertained, Chrissa. But please do not embarrass us too much.”

  She had no idea what he meant with that remark.

  Chapter Seven

  That afternoon, Chrissa fired another volley of arrows at the target, still filled with exhilaration that she would be going on the journey to see King Robert.

  With Drostan.

  She hadn’t seen him yet to tell him, but she supposed he’d already learned from Derric. Part of her had wanted to run right to him so she could see the smile on his face when he learned he had been chosen. But she wasn’t ready to let on to her family that their friendship had changed.

  “Stop thinking about lads and shoot,” Dyna yelled at her. “You missed one.”

  “But the rest hit the center,” she called out.

  “Are you whining?” Dyna called out.

  “Nay,” she said, wide-eyed. “Not at all. I’m sorry, I was a bit distracted thinking about this journey.”

  “The question is who on this journey has you rattled?” Dyna was pacing the clearing behind her, her hands on her hips. Fortunately, they were the only ones left with Maggie and Molly. The others had abandoned the practice after the first hour.

  Maggie snorted. “I think we know. Do we not, Chrissa?”

  Chrissa blushed but fired off another five arrows, hitting dead center on all five of the targets she’d chosen. “Nay, you don’t.” She wished to pout but didn’t dare act the part of a bairn in front of three of the women she admired more than anyone.

  Molly must have felt sorry for her because she said to Dyna. “Chrissa’s admirer has her unsettled. Drostan is going along. Can you not remember what it was like to have your mind on a man when you’re on the practice field?”

  Dyna glanced at Molly with a smirk and asked, “Do you? ’Twas a while ago, was it not?”

  Molly said, “Be careful. I am still capable of some trickery, my dear.” She waggled her brow at Dyna. “I had to fire an arrow to save my cousin while Tormod watched. I hate to admit how difficult it was to focus. If not for our sire and all his evil training, I surely would have failed.”

  Maggie huffed a laugh. “I recall having my own issues. Will distracted me more than I care to admit. My daggers often went wild whenever he was around. ’Tisn’t every day a lass gets wooed by the Wild Falconer.” Maggie’s husband had earned a reputation as an outlaw for a time, bolstered by his trained falcons.

  “Aye,” Molly said, glancing at Maggie. “Coping with distractions is an important part of training, especially before going into battle. When our sire arrives, I’ll have you two practice with him. He paces and yells at you while you’re trying to aim. I used to get furious with him over it, but he told me ’twould make me stronger, and he was right. ’Tis why I was able to hit Ranulf MacNiven the way I did.”

  Chrissa had heard plenty of stories about Ranulf MacNiven, of course. He’d caused a lot of trouble for her clan and the Ramsays back in her mama’s day.

  Dyna nodded to Chrissa. “You should take the time to ask an expert how they did it. Molly killed the man whom many had tried to take down. The time she referred to, she shot him while he held her cousin in front of him and Tormod was off to the side. That kind of focus only comes from training.”

  Chrissa cocked her head. “You shoot when the enemy is in front of you. I don’t care if someone is yelling near me. ’Tis not difficult.”

  Molly sat on the soft grass. “But what if the man you love is off to the side, within range of the enemy, and the villain has his dagger at the throat of your wee cousin? What if your sister is behind you crying and your father is in front of the villain ranting like a daft man, trying to distract the fool so you can get a better shot?”

  Well, when she phrased it that way…

  “How did you do it?”

  “’Tis as Molly said. Our father trained us brilliantly.”

  Molly added, “Ask our mother how hard it was to fire at the man who killed her father and brother. She couldn’t do it. Not until she practiced for days with Papa yelling at her while she tried to aim.”

  Chrissa had shot arrows at men before, but the circumstances they were describing…she hadn’t considered facing something like that. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I could ignore all those things. I’ve worked so hard, but…”

  Was it foolish of her to wish to go? Perhaps it had been a naïve wish. The goal of a child. Her mind was so woven up with Drostan of late, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to shoot straight if he stood anywhere within eyesight.

  Dyna
sat down and motioned for Chrissa to sit. “I know what you’re going through. You just need to learn to tune out whatever’s going on with you while you’re fighting. Believe me, Derric Corbett does not like being forgotten, but I had to learn how to do it.”

  “Mayhap I don’t belong with you. Mayhap I’m too inexperienced,” she muttered, yanking on the grass as if it had offended her.

  “Look, you’ve accomplished the difficult part,” Maggie said. “You’re a hell of an archer, and we’d be proud to have you along on any of our jaunts. But you don’t stop challenging yourself just because you can hit dead center of a target. Can you hit the target while you’re moving? While someone is taunting you? When the one you love is standing two feet from you? Or the worst—when a family member you love is being held by the enemy? Don’t settle and think you have naught more to learn, because there’s always more to learn. As Papa often told us, our enemies like to dance in our minds, making us question everything we thought we knew.”

  Dyna asked, “Will Drostan distract you on this journey? I don’t need to know anything but that.”

  She shook her head, knowing that her voice would betray her if she spoke. Then she stood up, anxious to fire a few more arrows to help exorcise her emotions. A thought popped into her mind that helped her gain control of her emotions, something of merit. “’Tis not as if we’d just met. Drostan and I have known each other forever. And we’ve trained together for years. He won’t upset me if he’s nearby. I’m used to him.”

  Maggie gave Chrissa an assessing look. “There’s good news, too. If two people know each other verra well, they might also do well as spies.”

  “Really?” Chrissa had never heard that before, but she wished to hear more. “How do you know?”

  “You need look no further than our mother and father,” Molly said. “Or my husband and me.” She tipped her head toward her sister. “Maggie and Will. And do not forget Dyna and Derric. They’ve gone on many missions together for the clan and King Robert.” Her expression turned sly. “A man and a woman can infiltrate different parts of an operation. If you have strong feelings for Drostan, you should consider spying with him. In fact, we could make the recommendation to King Robert. If you see a future with him. Couples are the best spies.”

  The Ramsays’ words sent her thoughts into a confusing spiral. Drostan had mentioned the possibility of them spying together. Could it happen? What would it be like if they married? Would they stay in love, like Dyna and Derric and the Ramsays and their husbands, or would they suffer the fate of his parents?

  She shot off several more arrows, almost in a daze, and only realized how much time had passed when she noticed Dyna and Maggie were moving around the field, collecting arrows and cleaning up the practice area. The sun was going down. Mayhap she should return to the keep. Moving her shoulders around a bit, she felt a familiar soreness that told her the practice had indeed gone on for too long.

  As they headed back toward the gates, the three married women slipped into conversations about their family, so Chrissa thought some more about Drostan. The guards who’d accompanied them followed on horseback. Although it was a goodly distance, Chrissa preferred to walk some days, enjoying the fresh air. Her mind was so preoccupied she didn’t notice her cousin Astra until she was nearly upon her. “Drostan is looking for you everywhere. He’s taking a squire with him. May I go along as your squire?”

  “What?” she said, incredulous that her cousin would suggest such a thing. “I don’t need a squire.” She also doubted that Drostan would be taking a squire to see King Robert. Mayhap for the battle, but that wasn’t for a while yet. He’d have no need of armor for training or spying.

  “You might. How do you know? When you get to camp, I could be useful.” Astra fell in behind her like one of Torrian’s pups, not at all put off. “I could pick up all the arrows that miss your target. You’ll have to have an endless supply.”

  Chrissa stopped in her tracks. “Astra, squires are there to help their masters don and remove their armor, their helm, even their boots. I don’t wear any of that, so you would fulfill no purpose. And think you that your mother would allow you to go? I doubt it.”

  “My mother allowed Dyna to go wherever she wished. Mayhap you don’t wear armor, but you could use my skills. I’ve verra good at eavesdropping.”

  “We all know that. You never stop.” She waved her hands up over her head for effect.

  “So you admit I’m good at it. I can listen to the English and tell King Robert exactly how they’ll attack.”

  Chrissa spun on her heel with a growl and headed toward the keep. “Nay, you’ll not be my squire. Ask your parents if they’ll allow you to go. I think not. But if you’re allowed, you’ll not travel with me.” She put as much emphasis on the last word as possible before she yanked on the door and hurried into the keep.

  She ran right into Drostan’s chest, and she felt as if she’d been scorched. It was as if her body knew him before her eyes did. Hellfire, she had to stop acting like she was in love with Drostan just because of one kiss. Of course, it wasn’t just one kiss. It had started long, long before that, as his father had reminded them. There had been other moments, too, when their friendship had felt like something more. She recalled a time a few moons ago when they’d gotten too close, Drostan standing behind her to show her how to fling her dagger, and it had sent strange sensations tumbling through her body. Unfamiliar sensations.

  She’d dismissed it back then, not realizing it was the start of something that would continue to grow inside her. Was the same happening to him?

  “Chrissa,” Drostan said, stepping back from her after they collided. He reached for her as if she needed steadying. Or mayhap he simply wished to touch her? “I’m sure you’ve already heard, but I’m going to King Robert’s camp. I’m verra pleased. My thanks for your assistance.”

  “I didn’t have to say anything. You’ve earned it on your own, Drostan, and I doubt they would take someone just because I asked, so remove that thought from your mind. You deserve it for all your hard work.” She found herself thinking of the pledge he’d made to her all those years ago, when he was no more than a laddie. He had worked hard, and although she knew he’d done it for himself, she couldn’t help but feel a little pleased by the thought that he’d also wanted to impress her.

  “Are you coming?” he asked.

  “Of course I am.” She tugged on her braids. “Now and on Midsummer’s Day. King Robert wants a large group of archers because the English will have so many. But we can best them.”

  He glanced back. No one else was about, but he gave her a small push out the door and down the steps to the keep before taking her hand and guiding her to a bench in the garden. Once there, he pivoted to stare at her. He didn’t sit, however, and he looked strangely agitated. “If it were Midsummer’s Day, and you were traveling with all the guards and a group of three score archers, I wouldn’t worry. But this is a small group. We may be attacked by marauders or English. Are you prepared for that? Would it not be better to wait for the battle?”

  It was as if he’d read her mind. After the conversation she’d shared with Molly, Maggie, and Dyna, she was having second thoughts about joining the small group. And yet…she and Drostan had always talked about traveling together, fighting together. Hadn’t he just told her he wanted them to spy together? How dare he suggest that she stay home, especially since he was going.

  She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “I’m not afraid. I can do this, and I will. I’ve been training for just as long as you have.”

  “Do your parents approve? They cannot possibly think ’twould be safe for you out there with all the English crawling around.”

  “Aye, they gave their approval. So did my grandsire, my uncles, and my cousins. I’m nearly twenty years old. Dyna was chasing around at the age of six and ten on her own. She did fine, and so will I.” She leaned forward, poking a finger at him for emphasis, but it landed on his chest. His chiseled, p
erfect chest.

  It was then she realized her mistake. He was too close. So close she could see the fire in his brown eyes, flecks of red dancing with shades of gold and brown. His jaw was clenched tight, and she had the strange desire to run her fingers over the stubble on it.

  She did, eyes on him, and his agitation turned to heat. He panted, staring at her, leaning so close she could inhale his scent of horse and pine and mint, of the wind across the Highlands.

  “God’s bones, must you lean so close to me?” He reached for her shoulders and tugged her behind a tree, and within moments their bodies were pressed together. His lips ravaged hers, his tongue darting inside with a savage need that she matched as she lifted her hands to his cheeks, cupping them as if to bring him closer yet.

  He pulled back long enough to whisper, “If you come, I’ll go mad with worry.”

  “Why?”

  He kissed her again, this time softly, sucking her lower lip. “What if you’re hurt? I’ll not be able to watch you, I’ll pounce on any man near you, I’ll…” He kissed her again, devouring her so thoroughly that need radiated up to the top of her head and down to her toes, welling in her core. “Did you forget about the Ramsay chieftain so soon?”

  She stopped the kiss, her fingers coming up to tap on his bottom lip. He didn’t smile as she’d hope, a hiss sliding out between his teeth instead. “I cannot watch…you don’t understand…when another man nears you…”

  She whispered, “Then don’t watch.” Their foreheads touched and his hands settled on her hips.

  He closed his eyes, his resignation obvious. He knew her too well to doubt she would do just as she pleased. She was going.

  “Can you not stay back, Chrissa?” he said, more as a statement than a question. “Just this once?”

  “Nay,” she whispered, then finally took a step back. “You know how hard I’ve worked for this. We’ve worked for it together. You’ll have to manage.”