The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said, bobbing a curtsy, “but her ladyship desired me to inform you that she has ordered supper set back a half hour.”

  “What evil spirit possessed her to do that?” he demanded querulously.

  Shooting an oblique glance at Patrick, she said, “She did not deign to inform me of her reason, sir. Is there aught I may bring you to stave off starvation?”

  Patrick felt his loins stir in response to her sidelong look and quickly shifted his gaze to the floor, hoping he presented the appearance of an obsequious retainer.

  Sir Hector said with a sigh, “I require nothing yet. This is Patrick, lass. He is to be my new falconer. I told Gray to wait, but he seems to have disappeared. Pray, find him and tell him to take this fellow to his birds.”

  “Gray stands outside the door, sir, but I warrant he must be anxious to return to his post. If you like, I can show the new man to the mews.”

  “Do you not have tasks to attend?” he asked with a slight smile. “I know ’tis the Sabbath, but you have incurred her ladyship’s displeasure already today. She will not like your going outside again so soon.”

  “She will not scold if you command me, sir,” Elspeth said with a smile.

  “Saucy lass. You deserve to suffer the rough edge of her tongue.”

  Patrick waited, but the girl did not reply.

  After a moment’s pause, Sir Hector said, “Very well, send Gray back to his post and take this fellow to the mews. Then you must return to your duties.”

  Elspeth curtsied and smiled at Patrick, but Sir Hector was not finished. “You, lad, heed me well. Your business is to tend my birds and to find and train a hawk for me to give to the King. Trifling with this maidservant or with any other here will result in your instant dismissal. Do you understand me?”

  “Aye, sir,” Patrick said, knowing that he failed to conceal his astonishment.

  “Mayhap at Naworth your master was not so strict, but here we keep a close eye on our lasses, so beware.”

  “I will, sir,” Patrick said with a bow. Grateful that Sir Hector had misread his amazement, he added with sincerity, “I thank ye.”

  The reply this time was no more than a grunt and a dismissive gesture, so he turned and followed Elspeth from the chamber, waiting with barely suppressed impatience until she had sent the man-at-arms back to his post. But although he would have spoken then, the lass put a finger to her lips and hurried toward the stairs. Not until they were outside did she speak.

  “What is it?” she said then as they strode across the flagged courtyard.

  He glanced at her. “What is what?”

  “You were going to speak before. You must not speak to me inside, though, because both Drusilla and Jelyan listen at doors and in the stairwell.”

  “Impudent brats! They should be soundly skelped.”

  “Did your mother beat you when you listened at doors?”

  “My mother is a gentle soul. ’Twas my father who doled out punishment in our household, and I certainly never would have listened at a door anywhere that he might have learned about it. Why did you not tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  The very innocence in her tone betrayed her. “You know perfectly well that I mistook you for a daughter of this house,” he snapped.

  “You are angry with me.”

  “I could not remain so, even if that were true,” he said with a sigh. “You saved my life today.” He realized that he was not bothering to disguise his manner of speaking and mentally chided himself for his carelessness. What was it about the lass that caused him to forget his most basic rules of survival?

  “Does it matter?”

  The question disconcerted him, coming as it did just when he was asking himself about his unnatural reaction to her. He had to collect his wits, to realize that she had leaped back to his accusation that she had misled him. Then, without thinking, he said bluntly, “I do not like deception.”

  “Indeed.”

  The sarcasm in her tone struck his conscience like a whip. He could think of nothing to say that would not increase his guilt, so he said nothing.

  The silence between them lengthened until she said quietly, “That building yonder in the corner of the wall serves as the tower mews.”

  Feeling much as he had long ago when caught in mischief and scolded for it, he had been looking at the ground, but he looked up at these words and followed the direction of her gesture.

  The structure she indicated was a good-sized timber shed leaning against the stone wall, but when she led him inside, he found conditions worse than he had expected. Three hooded birds were tethered to arched perches, and despite its hood, one bated wildly at their entrance, falling from its too-high perch and hanging, frantic, in its jesses. Patrick leaped forward, snatching up a filthy towel to capture the bird and set it back on its perch. The floor was a morass of mutes, or droppings.

  “I’ll need a glove,” he murmured as he stroked the breast of the nervous bird with his fingertips to calm it. “I brought practically nothing with me.”

  “I collect that you left your last place somewhat abruptly.”

  “Aye.” He was gently examining the bird he had replaced on its perch, a small brown-and-white female sparrow hawk.

  “I wonder if that is the one the lad said should be put down,” Elspeth said.

  “Nay, not her. She’s just hungry. I’ll soon find her something to eat, though, if one of your men will lend me a bow and some arrows. I’ll wager ’tis the hen harrier yonder that your lad fretted over.”

  Cautiously, and cursing the dim light, he examined the harrier on the end perch without touching it, then gently stroked its soft gray throat as he studied its dark trailing primaries. The bird moved nervously on the perch but did not start.

  “How will you train them to your fist?”

  “These must already be manned to accept more than one fist. Otherwise, since Sir Hector does not train his birds, he would not be able to hunt with them.”

  “But did I not hear him say that you must also train a new one?”

  “First I must catch it,” Patrick said, his attention still on the harrier.

  When she did not reply, he glanced at her and saw that she was reaching toward the sparhawk. Even as he opened his mouth to tell her to stand back, she stroked the bird, and to his astonishment, it accepted her touch without a twitch.

  “Did you help the previous man with these birds?”

  “Nay, I was here only once before today.”

  “But she behaves as if she knows you.”

  She shrugged, still stroking the hawk with her fingertips. “All animals trust me,” she said. “Even as a small child, I was able to pick up wild birds or calm an injured fox kit by stroking it. I thought mayhap I could help by keeping this one calm whilst you tend the others. What is wrong with the harrier?”

  “Hunger trace, for one thing,” Patick said. “That means that at some point or other he did not get enough to eat. You can see the evidence here.” He pointed to what looked like a semicircular slash across the bird’s white tail plumage. “That line shows where the feathers are weak. Two have broken.”

  “Can you mend them?”

  “Aye, in time. Where is the lad who’s been looking after them?”

  “I do not know, but Small Neddy is a bit daft, so do not scold him if he did not do everything the way you think he should have.”

  “I will not scold him at all,” Patick said. “I want him to continue to help if that will not stir coals with anyone.”

  “He helped the previous man sometimes, but mostly he helps in the stable.”

  “I’d like him to muck out the floor in here, and to do so regularly,” Patick said. “Should I speak to Sir Hector before I give Small Neddy orders?”

  “I’ll ask him. Will you show me how to mend feathers?”

  Her nearness made him conscious of how desirable she was. “Do you mean to barter with me whenever I want something?�
�� he asked.

  She licked her lips with her tongue, and a jolt of sexual desire shot through him. He wanted to shake her, but even more did he want to kiss her and tease her body until she writhed with matching desire for him. He had liked her well enough when he thought she was a daughter of the household. That she was a maidservant seemed to make her even more desirable, or perhaps it was just that he knew a maidservant would be more accessible.

  Her gaze collided with his. “I did not mean to barter,” she said. “I only asked because earlier, when we were in the woods, you said you would teach me to mend feathers, but men often change their minds after they promise things.”

  “I do not,” he said. “If I make a promise, I keep it.” He was facing her now, looking down into those wide gray-green eyes. He could almost taste her lips.

  “When will you teach me?”

  “You should not spend time here alone with me,” he countered reluctantly, albeit pleased to discover that he still possessed a conscience.

  “I am alone with you now.”

  His longing for her overcame both conscience and good sense. Without another thought, he caught her by both shoulders and kissed her hard.

  She made no move to stop him, and when his lips touched hers and found them soft and willing, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, cradling the back of her head with one hand.

  Although she was small and slender, she fit against him perfectly.

  Chapter 4

  Elspeth could not breathe, and his beard tickled her cheeks and chin. Never had a man kissed her before—not since she was small, at all events, and then only if her father had done so. Since he had given her away to strangers when she was little more than a bairn, then left the country and stayed away for as long as she could remember, she did not know if he had ever kissed her or not. In her dreams he had, but in reality, it seemed unlikely.

  In any case, she was certain that no fatherly kiss could be like this one. Patrick’s lips were hot against hers, hard and demanding. His hand at the back of her head felt large and powerful, and warm. He smelled of woodland and smoke, and he tasted unlike anything she had ever tasted before. It was pleasant, that taste, and she wanted to savor more of it.

  His other hand was at her waist, and he had spread his fingers so they spanned the small of her back. Fire radiated through her from every place he touched, but when his tongue pressed against her lips, then slipped between them, she gasped, knowing that she ought to stop him. Nice girls did not let men take such liberties. But what could she do, particularly when she did not want to stop him?

  He was pressing hard against her in front, too. His body seemed to want to swallow hers, to possess her. Hearing a slight moan, she realized with a start that it had come from her throat. She was kissing him back, and she was doing it as easily as if she had done such things for years. What must he think of her?

  At that thought, she stiffened and raised a hand to his hard chest, pressing her palm against him, reluctantly giving him a push. She assumed that it would do no good, and she was a little disappointed when he stopped kissing her and let her go.

  “Sorry, lass,” he said gruffly. “You’re a tempting morsel, but I should ken better than to defy Sir Hector’s orders when I’ve been less than a quarter hour out of his company. If you’d like to smack me, go ahead.” His expression softened as he added, “Molly would.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Would you not smack me back if I smacked you?”

  “Is that what men hereabouts do? They’d best not try it whilst I’m about,” he said. “Who dares to strike you?”

  “No man has since I was a child,” she said, surprised at his reaction.

  “Well, I had best not see any man lift a hand to you,” he said.

  Her heart seemed to swell within her. No man had ever spoken so to her, nor taken her part so firmly. Sir Hector was considerate, and when he noticed others being unkind to her, he often intervened, but his intervention had never felt like this. And Patrick had done nothing but speak a bit fiercely.

  “Who is Molly?” she asked.

  “What?” The question clearly disconcerted him.

  “You said she would smack you if you kissed her.”

  “She is just a friend,” he said brusquely. “No one to concern you.”

  She looked into his eyes, thinking she might judge better by what she saw there, but the gaze that met hers was too intense, and she looked quickly away again and stepped back. If she had hoped the extra distance would make a difference, she immediately learned her error, for it was as if there were no distance, as if she could still feel his hands and his lips on her.

  “I… I must go,” she said, turning away. She could almost feel him reaching for her, and the feeling lent wings to her feet. When he did not catch her and hold her, the odd sense of disappointment struck again, but she ignored it and ran outside, only to come up short when an irritated Drusilla stepped into her path.

  “What are you doing out here, Elspeth?”

  Her world righted itself, and gathering her wits, she replied glibly, “I was seeing to an errand for Sir Hector. Did you want me?”

  “It is nearly time for supper,” Drusilla snapped. “You should be helping in the kitchen. I’ll wager my mother does not know you came outside.”

  Stifling a sigh, Elspeth said evenly, “You will tell her whatever suits you, of course. If she wants me, she will know where to find me.”

  Turning, she walked away, feeling small concern for what Drusilla might do. For once, she had more interesting things to occupy her mind.

  She attended to her supper duties with speed and dispatch. Cook was a kindly soul and did not scold when a person was a few minutes late. She knew that Elspeth would make up for her tardiness by working swiftly and capably. Elspeth had learned young that whatever the other servants might think about a person’s birth or antecedents, they appreciated a willing worker who did not complain or insist that certain duties were not hers to perform. Thus, they did not resent the affection Sir Hector showed her or the affection she felt for him in return.

  There were times when someone would ask her to speak to Sir Hector about one thing or another. She would always try to help, and sometimes she would succeed in smoothing over a bit of trouble. Just as often, however, she could do nothing, as when the previous falconer had been dismissed.

  When the meal was served, her kitchen duties were done, and she took her place in the lower hall with the other servants. Not until after Sir Hector had spoken the grace before meat did she allow herself to look for the new falconer. She realized she had left the man abruptly without showing him where he was to sleep, and she hoped that someone had shown him.

  At first, she did not see him, and a new worry stirred. What if he did not think he should leave the birds? How would he eat? She had seen no sign that he had carried food, and it was too early for him to have found berries in the woods.

  Just as she was thinking she would have to collect food for him and take it out to the mews, she saw him sitting with other menservants near the hall entrance. They were laughing, and he was clearly enjoying himself.

  She watched him, waiting for him to laugh again, and so she was looking right at him when he turned his head. His gaze met hers, and he grinned.

  Heat flooded her cheeks, and the tingling that stirred in the center of her body made her look swiftly away from him and hope that no one else had noticed him looking at her. It would be just like Drusilla to be watching, hoping for her to put a foot wrong, so that she could make more trouble.

  Supper dragged on after that, because Elspeth dared not look toward the falconer again, and yet she remained strongly aware of his presence. The others at her table were chatting and laughing, but no one paid heed to her silence, and she was grateful. Again she recalled that she had promised to show the falconer his chamber, but the thought sent more heat to her cheeks. Someone else would show him, or he could sleep on the hall floor with the men-at-arms who s
lept there.

  It would serve him right, she decided. The man was too full of himself. A night on the hard stone floor would do him good.

  As Brown Claud paced the parlor floor, waiting for Maggie, he was feeling pleased with himself. Not only had he accomplished the mission she had assigned him and arranged things in a way he was sure she would approve, but in the doing he had improved his own life, as well. And Maggie would like Lucy Fittletrot.

  Lucy was everything that the wicked Highlander, Catriona, was not. To be sure, Catriona had been splendidly beautiful and clever, so clever that Maggie had despised her and called her dreadful names. But Lucy was plain and sensible. Maggie had only to look at her to know that this time Claud was really in love.

  He sighed, for the unhappy truth was that when he was with Lucy, he was sure Maggie would like her. But when he was alone, as now, doubt crept in. Maggie was difficult to please, and when she was not pleased…

  A noise diverted him, and his waning confidence vanished like smoke.

  “Mam, be that ye coming in?”

  “Aye, and who else would it be?” Maggie demanded testily as she bustled into the parlor. She looked him up and down in disapproval. “Why do I find ye here, lad? Did I no tell ye tae keep searching for our lass?”

  “But I’ve found her!”

  “Aye, well, that be another matter,” Maggie agreed. “Be ye sure?”

  “Aye, for all that they call her Elspeth now and no Bessie anymore.”

  Maggie grimaced. “Who calls her so?”

  “The folks wha’ that bastard Angus left her wi’,” Claud said. “She be happy enough, though tae my way o’ thinking, they dinna be kind tae her.”

  Maggie frowned, disappointing him. He had expected praise for his success.

  “Are ye no happy that I found her, Mam?”

  “I’m wondering how ye managed it so quick this time,” she said. “We ha’ been looking a fierce long while without turning up so much as a hair o’ the lass.”

  “I did ha’ help,” Claud admitted, adding quickly, “I met a lass, but she’s no like ye’d think. She be a good lass, Lucy, and she guessed straightaway that the Elspeth living wi’ her cousin’s people had tae be our Bessie. Said the lass came in the night, that Angus brought her years ago and tellt the folks there that she were his, born out o’ wedlock, and they was tae look after her.”