Conquered by a Highlander

by Paula Quinn

  Lefevre pushed his chair from the table, apparently deciding that since no one else was moving to the task of escorting the lady back to her son’s room, ’twas up to him.

  Colin shook his head as if to clear away the madness of involving himself in things that had nothing to do with his war. “I’ll bring the boy to ye,” he said, standing to his feet and motioning to Lefevre to stay where he was.

  Stepping away from the table, he kept his steady gaze on Gates. Over the years, Colin had learned how to gain his enemy’s trust. But Gates wasn’t his enemy and he wanted it to remain that way. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to stand around and do nothing while Devon opened his vile mouth to Edmund.

  “Last eve, our good captain appointed me the lady’s escort in place of Lefevre. Since he refuses to obey ye, I will see the duty done.”

  Devon tossed his head back and laughed, giving Colin a moment to offer the captain a subtle nod. Trust me. He willed the captain to hear his silent plea.

  “How refreshing it is to find such loyalty at my table.” The earl grinned at Gates, fell back into his chair, and tossed Colin a regretful look. “The captain might slice off your lips for this in the morning, but for now, go, and be quick about it. Gillian, you will remain here with me.”

  “I’m going with him. Edmund will be frightened—”

  “Sit down and be silent, wench,” her cousin warned, his eyes as hard and merciless on her as Colin’s were before he cut a man down the middle.

  Instead of retreating, she took a step forward. “Geoffrey, take heed,” she warned him in a soft, low voice. “If you refuse to allow me to tend to my son, he will not be the only one gone from this castle.”

  “You aren’t leaving Dartmouth.” He laughed at her.

  “I wasn’t speaking of myself.”

  Devon caught her meaning and his laughter faded. So then, he didn’t doubt the lass would spill his innards. Huzzah, lass! Colin didn’t smile, but he wanted to.

  “Such a saucy temper.” Less determined to win, but not giving up, Devon laughed again and spread his gaze over his men. “You make every man at this table eager to shove his…”

  Thankfully, she didn’t listen to another word, but whirled on her heel and stormed toward Colin.

  “I wish to speak to you, Mr. Campbell.”

  She swooshed passed him, leaving him saturated in the scent of wild blossoms and with an icy cold chill down the length of his spine.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Why have you done this?” Gillian turned on him the instant they left the Hall.

  He stopped short of hurtling into her. “What?”

  “Why would you volunteer to subject Edmund to Geoffrey’s company?”

  “D’ye think yer threats would have kept him in his bed?”

  “No,” she admitted quietly, looking up into his eyes. “But you near leaped at the task.”

  “Trust me.”

  Heavens, how could anyone refuse his low, sorcerer’s voice, the eager sincerity in the confident quirk of his lips? She shook her head. “You have no idea what you ask.”

  “Aye, lass, I do, and fer that, I won’t disappoint ye.”

  Oh, how he tempted her! Was she so pitiful then, that she would believe his promise and put hope in him? It frightened her, but the warmth of his breath falling against her face made her forget why.

  “I don’t want my child to hear me being called a whore.”

  “He won’t.”

  She closed her eyes, feeling his mouth so close, anticipating and dreading his kiss. She wanted to know what it felt like to be held in his arms, pressed to his heart. She turned away, fearing that if she didn’t, it would be the end of her.

  They entered Edmund’s room quietly, but her son was still awake. When he saw her in the candlelight and the man behind her, he sat up and smiled.

  She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t let him hear what Geoffrey intended to tell him. Let him try to take Edmund away for it, she would stab him at the table, push him down the stairs, find a way to poison him. He would never succeed. She blinked away the tears that burned behind her eyes, pushed aside her constant terror of losing her child, sat next to him on the bed, and smiled.

  “Edmund,” Colin said, coming forward and matching her son’s wide grin. “How would ye like to come to the Great Hall tonight?”

  “With you?”

  “Aye. I’ve another game to teach ye.” He bent his knees and crooked his finger for Edmund to come nearer. “ ’Tis a secret game though. Only the three of us will know of it. D’ye want to play?”

  Edmund nodded enthusiastically.

  “Good, put on yer slippers and then I will tell ye of the rules.”

  “Mr. Campbell…,” Gillian began. He held up his palm to quiet her, then rose and crossed the room to one of the candles. She watched him tilt the wax and let it drip into his palm. She caught his smile in the soft firelight and felt her belly tighten. What was he about?

  “Did George truly relieve Mr. Lefevre of duty?”

  “He did not,” he answered, reaching for another candle and doing the same with the wax. “But ye won’t be burdened with the Frenchman anymore.”

  “Will I be burdened with you then?”

  He looked up and laughed quietly, sending Gillian’s defenses scattering. “Aye, ye will.”

  “This is going to feel warm,” he said, bending to Edmund and breaking off two small pieces of wax from his clump. “But ’twill not hurt.” He shaped the bits and moved Edmund’s curls away from his ears.

  “What’s it for?”

  “ ’Twill help ye hear yer own thoughts more clearly. There is much noise in the Hall and this game requires us to think without distraction. We shall all play and at the end of the night, we will remove the wax and tell each other what we thought about.”

  Edmund removed his thumb from his mouth and watched Colin knead the wax in his fingers. “What should I think about?”

  Colin shrugged, “Things ye enjoy doing with yer mother—”

  “Or with you?”

  “Aye.” The mercenary’s voice took on a softer tone, as did his smile. “Think about things that make ye happy.”

  “Puppies?”

  Gillian finally smiled in the dim light, understanding now what the hardened Highlander was doing. He was clever and caring, protecting her son from Geoffrey without frightening him. She was so grateful, so enchanted by his tenderness, that she was tempted to leap from the bed and fling her arms around him.

  “Aye, puppies will do,” Colin replied with a resigned sigh and began fitting the wax into Edmund’s ear. “The trick is to ferget whatever else ye might hear and just concentrate on those good thoughts. My mother used to tell me that if we thought about something hard enough and wanted it badly enough, we would have it. One of the rules, though, is that ye don’t let others know about the wax in yer ears. If they speak to ye and ye cannot hear them, simply nod yer head, pretending that ye do. Do ye understand?”

  Edmund nodded, happy to play. “What will you think about Colin?”

  Gillian felt her cheeks blaze when he glanced at her.

  “Swords and battle most likely.”

  He pressed his pliant wax into Edmund’s other ear then tested to see how well it worked. When Edmund didn’t answer him, he grinned.

  “Ye’re next,” he said, rising to his feet and turning to her.

  “I’ve heard it all before.”

  “I would rather ye didn’t hear it again tonight.” He moved in on her and before she could stop him, he fit two fingers under her chin and turned her head, inclining her ear toward him. “It won’t block out Devon’s voice entirely, but ’twill muffle what ye hear.”

  His tone was thick and deep, covering her like smoke while his fingers flittered across her lobe. She was having a hard time breathing with him so close, hovering over her. He smelled like the outdoors, like the briny wind and something so male it went straight to her head and left her dizzy. She looked up into his ey
es, smiled at him, and watched him come undone a bit around the seams. He tried desperately to mask her effect on him, keeping his jaw taut, his fingers steady, but the evidence of his fondness for her was clear in his silent gaze. It made her heart rejoice and quake with worry at the same time. He couldn’t save her or Edmund from their futures and it was unfair of her to hope for it. What if he did something foolish, like knock out a few of Geoffrey’s teeth? Her son would suffer for it.

  “Mr. Campbell, I—”

  “Think of yer lute.” He quieted her, leaning closer to her ear. “Or of the freedom ye dream about high atop the turrets.”

  She nodded, smiling. She trusted him. God help them all. She trusted him.

  When he finished with her, she pulled more of her hair loose, covering the evidence of their scheme to ignore her cousin.

  She was about to thank him when George plunged into the room, demanding explanation. Colin gave it to him with patience and evidence, showing him the wax in Edmund’s ears. Moving toward the door, the men spoke quietly for a few moments. She watched them, noting George’s refusal to participate in their game, but at least he didn’t look angry. In fact, the two men exchanged what could have passed for a smile.

  Before they left the room, Colin worked his remaining wax into his ears and winked at Edmund. Surely, Gillian thought as they walked in silence to the Great Hall together, this was a better alternative than poisoning her cousin.

  Geoffrey was quite pleased with himself when he saw them, gloating and no doubt eager to begin spewing his filth without any to stop him. Gillian glared at him, though it was difficult to keep from laughing at him instead. As they sat, she noticed Colin slipping his hand to one ear and then depositing the wax he’d pulled from it beneath his belt. He didn’t look at her, or at Edmund, as he gained his chair.

  The next hour was a curious mixture of amusement, anxiety, and pure pleasure for Gillian. Amusement in that she could hear her cousin blathering on, but his words had absolutely no effect on Edmund. Her son played his part to perfection, smiling at Geoffrey from time to time, as if he heard him but didn’t understand what he was being told. She thought she might have heard her cousin call her son a simpleton, especially after Edmund let out a resounding bark that made the men at the table stare at him as if he’d lost his mind. But she wasn’t offended. Let them think what they would. Her son was thinking of puppies and it made her happy. Her own thoughts did the same for her. Ridiculously so, in fact. She had no trouble at all imagining herself laughing with Colin, walking with him while they watched Edmund running around a field carpeted with flowers and butterflies… and a puppy. It was all very sweet, but soon those thoughts turned in another direction. One that made her breath grow short. How would it feel to kiss him? To belong to him? To watch him undress and come to her bed at the end of each day?

  No. She was mad to let herself think of such things with him. Trusting him with certain things was bad enough. Losing her heart to him was entirely different, and equally dangerous. So what if he was a warrior, equipped with enough weapons on his person to fight the king’s army alone? Or if he was fond of Edmund… or even her? It meant nothing. Still, it was nice to ponder a different life with him, even for an hour.

  She refused to pay attention to Geoffrey, even when Colin’s expression grew dark from across the table. George looked just as murderous opposite her. Why hadn’t he plugged his ears? They both looked like they wanted to leap over the table and silence Geoffrey forever. No doubt her cousin was calling her a whore and her son a bastard. She tossed him a black look for good measure, and to convince him that she’d heard what he said. Part of her was mortified that Colin should constantly hear such terrible things about her, but presently she was more fearful of her son being witness to his friend killing a man at the supper table.

  When Geoffrey turned, bored with his endeavors, and pulled Margaret into his lap, Gillian emptied one ear of wax before speaking to him directly and swept out of her chair. “The hour grows late,” she announced. “I’ll not have him asleep in his stew.”

  Her cousin waved her away, his satisfaction in belittling her complete. Both George and Colin rose with her, but Geoffrey pulled his lips away from Margaret’s throat long enough to mutter something that made her captain sit back down. She listened more closely when he ordered Colin to escort her alone.

  “Prove your loyalty to me and to Captain Gates, Campbell,” he said. “Don’t touch her if you want to keep your hands attached to your arms. She is promised to another.” He slipped his eyes back to her and winked. “Though she’s a wanton seductress and likely won’t put up too much of a fight if you put your hands on her.” He laughed at the flush flaring her cheeks. “My dear, let’s be truthful. He’s not de Atre, after all.”

  Gillian met his frosty gaze head on. “Nor is he you, cousin.”

  An instant of watching his confidence falter was almost worth igniting his full temper. But not now, with Edmund here. So she lowered her gaze and her head along with it and left the Hall with her son… and Colin’s steady footfalls behind her.

  “Can we take the wax out now, Colin?”

  Gillian gasped at her son’s request echoing off the walls and turned, relieved to find the Hall doors had been closed behind them. She laughed nervously a moment later, realizing that Edmund couldn’t hear himself, or how loud he was speaking. She thanked God that he hadn’t spoken a word at the table.

  “I think ye might have won the game, lad,” Colin told him, bending to remove the wax balls from her son’s ears. “Do ye intend to beat me at everything, then?”

  Edmund’s laughter filled her ears as Gillian freed the second one. How had such a harrowing night turned into a bit of fun for Edmund? She watched Colin straighten to his full height and reach for Edmund’s hand as they headed for the stairs. Who was he? Had God sent him to Dartmouth to fight for the Dutch prince, or to help her and her son?

  “Were ye thinking about puppies, then?” Colin asked him on the way to his room.

  When Edmund nodded and stuck his thumb into his mouth, Colin shared a tender smile with her over Edmund’s head.

  “And do you know what else?”

  “What else?” the mercenary asked him when they reached his room.

  “Catching frogs.” Edmund hopped to his bed, then stopped and turned to look at them. “Do you think because I thought about them hard enough they might come true?”

  Gillian gathered up her mettle like a shield against her tears. It would do no good to have Edmund pity his life. Knowing he could not have all that he wanted would make him a better man. Still, it broke her heart to pieces wanting to give him everything.

  “Why can’t ye catch frogs? ’Tis easy.”

  Gillian blinked away the threatening moisture clouding her vision when Colin bent to pick up Edmund in his arms. This was becoming dangerous. Being alone with this man, watching him care so tenderly for her son… Dear God, it made her ache for the dreams she had put away so long ago. A father for Edmund. A man who loved them and would never abandon them.

  “Frogs live on the other side of the estuary,” she explained, coming to stand next to them. “It’s too far. Geoffrey won’t let us take horses,” she added, knowing by the confusion on his face that that was to be his next question.

  He didn’t look pleased with her reply. “Why can’t Gates carry… Och, aye,” he amended an instant later. “I’ve seen the way he carries him.”

  “Will you come with us when next we go, Colin?”

  Level with her son’s hopeful gaze, Colin Campbell, curious stranger, hardened Highland mercenary, swallowed and nodded his head as if he had no other choice, and surrendered to a force beyond his control.

  “Aye, I’ll come with ye.”

  Her son jumped up and down on his mattress when Colin set him on it.

  “It’s quite far,” Gillian managed, but didn’t dare look at him while she bent to settle Edmund to bed.

  “I wouldn’t object to taking a long
walk with the both of ye.”

  His words, and the slow, husky way he spoke them, suspended her breath. Afraid that she might already be falling for him, she fought to think clearly. “What about the danger from my cousin for showing us too much interest? You were concerned about it just days ago.”

  “That was before I decided to guard yer son with my life.”

  Gillian looked up at him, unable to stop herself, and not wanting to. Had she just heard him correctly? He looked almost as surprised as she at what had just left his lips.

  “He needs a guardian,” he said, sounding like it was he who needed convincing.

  “He has me,” Gillian told him, too afraid for all their lives to accept his aid.

  “And now he has me, as well.”

  “Do you think we will catch a frog?” Edmund asked, looking up from his pillow and sparing her from having to refuse his offer.

  “I know we will.” Colin stood over him, smiling and mussing his curls. “Now off to sleep with ye and have good dreams.”

  Gillian kissed Edmund good night and then followed Colin out of the room. Alone in the hall, she did all she could to compose herself before she offered him a smile, her thanks, and then a good eve.

  “Where might I escort ye next?”

  His voice above her set her nerve endings on fire. “To bed. I… I mean… to my rooms. I can get there myself. It’s only the next door.” She dipped around him. He turned, following her. “Good eve to you.” She backed away, looking at him watching her.

  “Ye’re angry with me.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “You have my heartfelt gratitude for all you’ve done tonight. I will never forget it. But neither can I forget that you’re dangerous to me, Mr. Campbell, and to Edmund… in more ways than you realize.”

  “And ye are dangerous to me, Lady Gillian.” He stepped forward, closer. “So much that ye tempt me to run. But I’ve never run from danger before, and I will not do so now.”