A Highland Knight's Desire (A Highland Dynasty Book)

by Amy Jarecki

  She accepted the leg and ate it—like a lady this time. “I’d like that.”

  “Aye.” Since he was unable to sit back, he rested his elbows on the table and studied her. Never before had he been completely smitten, but he would not complain if he were forced to sit in that spot and stare at Lady Meg for hour upon hour. He reached out and spun a curly lock around his finger. “You are so fine to me.”

  Meg sipped her whisky and coughed. “It would be nice to have some watered wine.”

  Duncan stood. “I shall call for some.”

  “Nay.” She didn’t want their time to be interrupted any more than he did, but she would stop sipping whisky this instant, lest she fall into her cups. “We can wait until the evening meal.”

  “Very well.”

  She stood and gestured to the bed. “Now, let me apply my salve and bandages.”

  He lay face down, as he’d done several times for her now. “I think this new concoction is the best yet.”

  “Truly? When I returned to Tantallon, I began studying the healing arts with the gardener.”

  “A gardener?”

  “Aye, he’s the most knowledgeable healer I know.”

  “I’d reckon so, if he taught you to concoct that potion.”

  “’Tis avens oil. Hubert says ’tis the most important herb in a garden.”

  She dribbled some of the oil on Duncan’s back and tenderly rubbed it in. “I wish we could stay here in your chamber forever.” Honestly, since they’d eaten, she’d been worried about how they’d face everyone. Now there would be no question that she was ruined. What would Duncan’s family think when she descended the tower stairs?

  “Aye.” His voice sounded dreamy—the avens oil must indeed be working a miracle. “But too many folks are relying on us.”

  “You perhaps, but no one cares overmuch about me.”

  Duncan rolled to his side and grasped her wrist. “I never want to hear you say that.” He sat up then pulled her into a tight embrace. “I care. I will always care.”

  “But what will everyone think when we leave this chamber?”

  “I am the master of these lands. They will think whatever I want them to think.”

  If only she could believe him. “’Tis easy for you to say.”

  “It is—”

  When the ram’s horn sounded to announce the evening meal, Meg’s stomach squelched. What will Lady Margaret say?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Once Meg had wrapped Duncan with linen bandages, they dressed. After he helped her reaffix her wimple, they headed down the tower stairs. Her nervousness grew with every footfall. What would everyone think of her now? Duncan had said a number of endearing words, but never once had he mentioned marriage. Meg wanted nothing more than to stay with Duncan, but without a contract of marriage, her brother would interfere for certain.

  Before they rounded the last bend, Meg took in a deep breath to steady her wits. Duncan glanced at her with a half-cocked grin. “Everything will be all right, lass.”

  She emitted a nervous chuckle, but there was no time for a rebuttal. Stepping into the great hall, benches scraped across the floorboards. Everyone stood, clapping and singing the pibroch of the Campbells.

  Duncan puffed out his chest and tightened his grip on Meg’s arm while they strode through the center aisle. When they reached the dais, he held up his palms and requested silence. “Friends, family, Campbells, I am happy to say I am back with you once again. I suffered greatly at the hands of the king. Lady Meg assisted in my escape and brought with her a salve that has worked wonders to bring me from the very edge of death. Though I stood wrongfully accused, I fear this ordeal has not yet come to pass. On the morrow, we must prepare for battle.” He scanned the hall, all faces gaping at him expectantly. “But tonight we celebrate!”

  The hall erupted in a raucous applause. Duncan resumed his grasp on Meg’s elbow and led her to the seat beside his.

  Once situated, Meg looked to her right. Lady Margaret nodded politely. “’Tis quite a stir you’ve caused around the keep.”

  Meg clapped her hand to her cheek. “Gracious, I was afraid to come down.” She bit her bottom lip. “But I worked so hard to care for Duncan’s wounds.”

  Lady Margaret raised her eyebrows knowingly, as if she had a peephole through to Duncan’s chamber. It was a look that said, I am well aware of what you’ve been up to, so do not bother trying to pull the wool over my eyes.

  “Ale?” Duncan asked.

  Meg rapidly nodded. “Please.”

  “Duncan, we must talk,” Lady Margaret said.

  “Aye, Mother.” He raised his tankard. “I’ve a great many plans to discuss with you.”

  The lady gave him a smug nod.

  Meg wished she could pull Duncan back up to his chamber for a quiet meal. The world had been so perfect when they were alone and shut away. She glanced across the table. The Highland Enforcers all grinned at her the same way Lady Margaret had.

  I’ll be burned in the fires of hell for certain. Meg hid behind her tankard. And now that everyone knows I’m ruined, what will become of me?

  Duncan carved a slice of pork and set it on her plate. “You must eat. The chicken we had was hardly enough to sustain you.”

  She looked at the piece of meat and her stomach squelched.

  At the far end of the table, Gyllis waved and grinned. At least her smile was more innocent and welcoming than the others.

  Lady Margaret leaned close. “You might want to sleep with Gyllis tonight.”

  “I’d love to spend time with Gyllis again. She’s so friendly.”

  “Yes, she is.” Lady Margaret rested her eating knife on the table. “Where, pray tell, is the Earl of Angus? Is he aware of your presence here?”

  Meg could have crawled under the table. “He’s in France on business.” Couldn’t the lady let sensitive matters rest until after the meal, and in a more private setting?

  “I see.” Lady Margaret frowned. “And what of your marriage prospects? Or are you still thinking of taking up the veil?”

  Meg pushed her piece of meat around her pewter plate with her knife. Honestly, she had no answer for Duncan’s mother. She dipped her chin and turned so that only Lady Margaret could hear. “I’ve not discussed my future with Arthur since I returned from Alnwick.” That wasn’t the complete truth, but after all, Arthur hadn’t announced her engagement. She forced a smile. “With any luck, my brother is concerned with too many other affairs to worry about me.”

  Duncan leaned forward. “Come now, speak up so we can all hear.”

  Lady Margaret reached for the bread. “I’m ever so glad to see you in acceptable health, son.” She gave Meg that knowing smile again. “Locked in your chamber all day, I’ve been worried you’ve been on the brink of death.”

  “After being whipped and splashed with molten lead, followed by two days of hard riding, I believe a day of rest was not unwarranted.” He gestured across to his men. “I’d wager you all slept late.”

  “Aye, past matins,” Eoin said.

  Lady Margaret cut her pork. “That may be, but we’ve more to worry about than the king’s men.”

  Duncan gave her a stern look. “Aye, and I shall meet with you in my solar at first light. Does that meet with your approval, m’lady?”

  Under the table, he grasped Meg’s claw then touched his lips to her ear. “Do not let Ma worry you. Deep down she’s an angel. I shall set her straight on the morrow.”

  The next morning, Duncan rose in a foul mood. His meddling mother had insisted Meg sleep with Gyllis, proffering the miserable excuse that the lassies got along so well. Never mind there were a half-dozen guest rooms in the main keep. Giggling, Gyllis took Meg up to her chamber shortly after the evening meal. Blast meddlesome women.

  He splashed water on his face and gingerly ran a razor over the morning’s beard. His back itched and needled him. If he’d had his way, Lady Meg would be near enough to apply her ointment. After he’d dressed,
a rap came at the door. Hoping it was Meg, he strode across the floor and opened it wide. His stomach sank. “Mother.”

  She pushed past him. “We need to talk.” Ma had a maddening way of pretending she was in charge. She waltzed to the table and sat in his chair.

  Duncan combed his fingers through his hair. The best way to handle Lady Margaret when she had a hair up her arse was to face it head-on. He sauntered over and took the seat across from her.

  She frowned, which made her cheeks wrinkle against her grey wimple. “I’ll go straight to the point.”

  “Please do.”

  “What are your intentions with Lady Meg?”

  “I—”

  “I allowed your indiscretion to pass the first time she remained in your chamber and tended you, because your father convinced me you were unconscious and the headstrong lass would see it no other way. But when I learned you had been spirited into the castle yet again with unimaginable wounds.”

  Duncan opened his mouth to speak, but Mother held forth, gesturing with wide arms.

  “And the pair of you locked the chamber door. No one knew if you were dead or alive.”

  “But—”

  She shook her finger. “I had no doubt that you were conscious, and I can only imagine what went on in here.” She stood and paced. “Lady Meg is the daughter of an earl. She’s not some tart you brought home from the Taynuilt alehouse.”

  He cringed. “You knew about that?”

  She shook a threatening finger. “I know everything that happens in this keep.” She resumed her seat. “Now, as I see it, we have a grave problem.”

  Duncan gulped back his response and resigned to let her talk.

  “First of all, it appears Lady Meg’s brother has no idea she’s here. You must spirit her back to Tantallon forthwith before he returns from France. That is the only way we can cover up this mess without ruining the lass’s reputation, and to remain in the earl’s good graces.”

  Duncan stared at Ma’s careworn face. “You’ve got it all figured out, I see.”

  “Aye, well, someone must watch out for your reputation if you refuse to do so. For all that is holy, you were nearly killed in the Edinburgh dungeons.” She covered her mouth and blinked rapidly. “I couldn’t have borne it if I were to lose you, too.”

  “Ah, Mother. My incarceration was a misunderstanding, and I did not confess. But I’m afraid your plan for Lady Meg will not work.”

  She dropped her hand and feigned an exasperated expression. “Pardon me?”

  “I love her.”

  She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Duncan, there are rules of etiquette which must be followed. You simply cannot ride off with a noblewoman and send a missive to her family telling them you’ve planned to wed.”

  “But that’s exactly what I must do . . . and forthwith.”

  “You cannot be serious.”

  “I cannot take her back to North Berwick, especially not with the king’s men in pursuit. I shall send the Earl of Angus a missive at once.”

  Lady Margaret sighed and sat back. “An alliance with the earl would do our family well—if he doesn’t have your head first.”

  “Oh ye of little faith, Mother. I swear, no one will take my head.”

  “I’m not happy about this state of affairs.” Mother watched him while he collected a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Duncan dipped his quill. Now she asks? “I’d be better with a fresh application of Lady Meg’s avens oil, but otherwise I am well.”

  “I can apply the oil for you.”

  Duncan glared from his writing with an arched brow.

  “Never mind.” She stood and moved toward the door.

  Duncan shook the quill. “I will appoint Lady Meg with her private chamber. Since she will be remaining here, she will require her own quarters.”

  “Absolutely not. I do believe Gyllis and Lady Meg would prefer to share. They’ve grown such a fondness for one another.” Mother opened the door. “I shall send Alana to tend you.”

  Duncan scrawled with a bold hand. Why must his mother meddle so?

  Duncan sent the messenger on his way with two missives. One was addressed to King James, explaining his innocence and requesting a pardon. The second was for the Earl of Angus, and it proved much more difficult to write. Duncan ruined three sheets of parchment before he was satisfied with the contents.

  He then met with his men in the solar. The six of them stood, staring at a map on the table.

  “I doubt they’ll come by sea.” Duncan scratched his chin. “They’d most likely ride by way of Callander.”

  Robert pointed. “Aye, but the king could commandeer the army at Dumbarton Castle and sail from there.”

  Duncan knew he was right. They could expect an attack from east or west. “We must post lookouts at all inroads. There’s no getting around it.”

  “I’ll see it done, m’lord,” Sean said.

  “My thanks. If fortune smiles upon us, the king will receive my missive before his men set out.” Duncan turned to Eoin. “After what you said about Lord Percy slipping away when you and Lady Meg gave testimony, I’m in hopes the king will grant me a pardon forthwith.”

  “One never knows,” Archie said from across the table. He was always the questioner of the group. “I reckon the accusation of the Earl of Mar using witchcraft was contrived in the first place.”

  “It matters not. We must now do what we can to regain the king’s good graces and continue our work in the Highlands.”

  “Hear, hear,” Eoin said.

  Duncan rolled up the map. “And in the interim, I need to reclaim my fighting legs. I’m afraid the king’s hospitality sapped me of my strength.”

  Eoin slapped him on the back. “We’ll see you set to rights.”

  Duncan’s knees buckled, and he braced his hands on the table. Showing weakness to his men would be a great folly. One he doubted he would ever live down. He hissed through his gritted teeth. “I’ll remember this when we’re sparring, friend.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Taking advantage of the sunshine, Meg strolled through the garden with Gyllis. After a few days of good food and care, Duncan was back to managing his affairs. Daffodils and tulips happily danced around them with the promise of more days of favorable weather.

  “Do you think you will marry Duncan, or are you still intent on taking up the veil?” Gyllis asked.

  Meg looked away and shrugged. She’d asked herself that same question a hundred times, but Duncan had yet to pose the question, and since his mother had insisted she stay with Gyllis, Meg hadn’t seen much of him. True, he had a great many things to organize and very little time. It seemed whenever he came around, Lady Margaret was nearby. “Marrying your brother isn’t up to me.”

  “Aye, but I’m sure you have an opinion.”

  “Well.” She smiled at Gyllis’s sweetly expressive face. “We shall see in time—how about you? Are you courting a handsome lad?”

  “Not formally.”

  “Formally? That does sound intriguing. Pray, do tell.”

  Gyllis giggled and pulled Meg behind a tall hedge. “You mustn’t tell a soul, but I’ve noticed Sir Sean MacDougall look my way many times as of late.”

  Meg whistled. “Oh my, he’s in line to inherit the lairdship, is he not?”

  “Aye.”

  After they’d fled the burning barn, Meg recalled Sean riding into their party as if he’d come from nowhere. “He’s quite adept on the trail. Duncan said he’s like a ghost.”

  “Honestly?” Gyllis clapped her hands over her heart. “And he’s so skilled with a sword. I’ve watched him spar from the upper chamber window.”

  “Have you now?” Meg knew exactly how giddy Gyllis must be feeling on the inside. The same fluttering sensation tickled her insides every time she saw Duncan wielding his claymore. “Perhaps I could say something to Sir Sean.”

  “Oh, would you?” Gyllis waved her pal
ms in front of her face and shook her head. “But you mustn’t. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “I could make it sound innocent . . .” Meg tapped a finger to her lips. “Perhaps encourage him to dance with you the next time minstrels come to play.”

  Gyllis twirled in a circle. “Aye, I could dance with him all night.” Laughing, she spun around the corner of the hedge, straight into Duncan’s arms.

  He grasped Gyllis’s shoulders. “With whom would you like to dance?”

  Gyllis gasped like she’d been skewered. “N-no one.” She grimaced over her shoulder and winked at Meg.

  Clasping a hand over her own racing heart, Meg winked back. Duncan had obviously been sparring. His tresses were damp and pushed away from his face, sweeping his collar. The laces on his shirt were spread open, giving her a view of a hard, masculine chest that glistened in the sunlight.

  Duncan released his hold on Gyllis and bowed. “Lady Meg, please do the honor of dining with me in my solar this evening. We’ve a great many things to discuss.” He sounded unusually formal.

  “Very well.” She curtsied. “Do you need your dressing changed?” she asked, trying to keep the longing from her voice.

  He looked at Gyllis and frowned. “Mother has seen to it—the healer has been tending me.”

  Meg had thought that might have been the reason she’d not seen Duncan more. Mothers could be meddlesome. She wanted to comment about her disappointment, but anything of the like with Gyllis present would have been untoward. “Until supper, then?”

  He again bowed. “Ladies.”

  Gyllis giggled as he took his leave. “I do not believe I’ve ever seen my brother so serious.”

  Meg cringed. Hopefully whatever he needed a private audience for was not grave. Wincing with the trepidation crawling up her spine, she hid her misgivings by wrapping her arm around Gyllis’s shoulder and leading her toward the stables. “In my opinion, Sir Sean is an accomplished horseman. Do you like to ride?”