“Aye.” He grinned. “Erin and I have three sturdy lads and one wee, bonnie lass. Our oldest is ten and four, and the youngest, our Hannah Rose, is but five years this summer.”
“But . . . how is that possible? It’s only been seven years since you were . . .” She frowned.
“Nay, ’tis been a little more than ten and five years since last I visited with your family,” he whispered. “We land in time wherever the fae choose to place us, and the future and past exist simultaneously.” Robley straightened and grinned. “At least that is what Haldor told my wife, so it must be so. ’Tis good to see you, lads. I ken your families will rejoice to have you home and safe. Where is Randolph, and how did you come by”—he canted his head toward her—“young Kevin here?”
“Whilst you were in Inverness, did you happen to hear whether or no’ Madame Giselle was about?” Hunter asked.
“Ah.” Robley’s eyes filled with understanding. “I canna say, for I had no reason to inquire as to her whereabouts.” He shifted on the bench. “I make a point of it to stay well out of her way.”
“We met with her halfway between Edinburgh and Aberdeenshire.” Hunter’s eyes touched on Meghan for a second, before he launched into the edited version of their story, including their encounter with the thieves.
“’Tis likely Madame Giselle’s whereabouts will remain elusive until whatever it is she’s conspired against the two of you has come to fruition,” Robley muttered, a speculative glint filling his eyes as he looked from her to Hunter. “Of that you can be certain.”
A shiver slid down her spine at the mention of the faerie’s name. How would they find her? “What about Haldor? Do you have a way to reach him?”
Robley snorted. “Nay, lass, but mayhap between Erin, True and Hunter a way can be found to set things aright. In the meantime, you have a home with us. Erin and I will act as your godparents and guardians for as long as you have need of our protection. ’Tis the least I can do for Connor and Katherine. I consider them kin to me and mine.”
“Thank you.” Gratitude surged through her. She had a place to stay and people who cared about her. Things could be so much worse. The events of the past week swirled through her mind, and for the thousandth time, she relived the moment she’d thrown that dagger. She leaned close to Robley and whispered, “I killed a man.” She swallowed against the tightness constricting her throat. “I . . . I had to.”
His eyes filled with concern. “We’ll talk later when we have some privacy. Dinna worry overmuch, lass. I’m certain you did what needed to be done. ’Tis a good thing your father trained you as he did. There’s no sin or cause for shame in defending yourself and those to whom you are pledged to protect.” A pensive expression suffused his features. “Mayhap Connor feared the day would come when one of his children might suffer the same fate as he, and that is why he trained you thus.”
“The thought crossed my mind,” she muttered. “It’s just as likely he trained us up the way he did because that’s all he knew how to do. All things considered, it’s kind of amazing he managed to carve out a niche for himself the way he has.” She’d always known her father was an extraordinary man, and her present situation made it all the more apparent. He’d only been sixteen when he’d followed the faerie who accidently hurled him to the future. Had Giselle been that faerie? Her father hadn’t even spoken the same language as her grandparents. It must have been terrifying for him. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to ease the ache in her heart.
“Robley,” Hunter said. “Might we depart on the morrow, or do you wish to rest a day or two before making the journey?”
The innkeeper approached and placed several more pewter tankards on the table along with a fresh pitcher of ale. Robley poured himself a tankard and requested meals for himself and the six warriors traveling with him. Once the innkeeper departed, Robley turned to Hunter. “We’ll leave at daybreak. I’ve no wish to linger. I dinna like to be away from my family for too long, and ’tis already a fortnight since I left Meikle Geddes.”
Drat. She’d be on the cold, muddy road again tomorrow. “How long will it take us to reach Loch Moigh from here?”
“Depending upon the conditions of the road and the weather, three or four days.” Robley yawned. “Have you any space to spare? The innkeeper says there are no more chambers to be had this eve, and I require a cot.”
“Aye, Uncle Rob,” Hunter told him. “Your men can bed down with our squires and pages. We’ve two cots left in our chamber, and you’re more than welcome to one of them.”
“I’m pretending to be a squire,” Meghan whispered to Robley.
“Och, aye?” His brow rose. “Whose?”
“Hunter’s, since he’s the one who brought me here, and he’s currently without one.”
“Hmm.” Rob sent Hunter a meaningful stare. “Well, I’ll be taking care of you for the remainder of our journey to Loch Moigh, lass. I’m a married man with bairns of my own. ’Tis only proper. Wouldn’t you agree, lad?” he asked Hunter, his tone firm.
“For certes,” Hunter said. “There’s no need to keep her gender a secret any longer then. My thanks.”
Meghan wasn’t sure she was all that glad to be handed off into Robley’s keeping. She’d felt safe and cherished in Hunter’s arms. He’d watched out for her every step of the way since rescuing her from what he’d believed was a brutal attack. He’d soothed her when the nightmares came, and as much as she hated to admit it, she’d miss being under his protection. As domineering as he was, at his core he’d proven himself honorable, caring and compassionate.
She sneaked a glance at Hunter, only to find him staring back at her, his expression befuddled. Her insides fluttered. There was no denying the obvious—she wasn’t the only one feeling the growing attraction between them. She just couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or not.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that Giselle’s meddling had led to more than one love story. In fact, as far as she could tell, all of her meddling had led to romance. Most likely Giselle had been the faerie who had taken her father from his century. Her dad and mom, True and Malcolm, Robley and Erin—could the faerie have brought her and Hunter together for a reason?
She didn’t want to think about it right now. Taking another fortifying sip of her ale, she pretended that every nerve she owned wasn’t standing at attention because the gorgeous hunk who had brought her into his world continued to stare at her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hunter glanced at the sky as the sun peeked through the clouds for a brief instant. ’Twas near None, and he’d be home by Vespers this very eve. Confound it, where was the excitement and anticipation he should be feeling? Instead, an edgy restlessness had taken hold. Mayhap ’twas due to his eagerness to set foot once again upon the island, and he’d lost all tolerance for travel. Aye, that must be it. After five years away, he longed for the comforts of home, and ’twould be a long time before he set foot off MacKintosh land again.
His gaze strayed to where Meghan rode ahead of him. Hunter had ceded his place at the front of the line to his Robley, along with all responsibility for the lass. Robley and Meghan were chattering on about her kin and what had transpired since Rob and Erin had left her time. What the devil was a “business degree,” and how would such a thing be of any use to her here?
“Are you well, Hunter?” Murray asked, riding up beside him.
“Of course I’m well,” he snapped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Och, ye look as if—”
“As if what?” Hunter glared him into silence.
“I meant no offense.” Murray shrugged. “’Tis only polite tae inquire after a friend’s welfare, aye?”
“I beg your pardon, Murray.” Hunter blew out a heavy breath, sensing only curiosity and concern from his friend. “I’m weary of the road and eager to be home is all.”
His glance drifted once again to
Meghan. She no longer followed his every move with her eyes. All of her attention had shifted to Robley. Memories of having her nestled in front of him on the way to Aberdeenshire flooded his senses. He’d never forget the way her curves had fit so perfectly against him, or the way she’d finally entrusted herself into his keeping that day. Nor would he soon forget how she’d saved Allain’s life, putting her own at risk. His poor heart had seized when he saw her on the ground but an arm’s length away from the blackguard bleeding out onto the ground. Meghan was a rare lass, and if Tieren managed to win her heart, he’d be a lucky man indeed.
He forced himself to stop staring at her. Soon he’d be with Sky Elizabeth, and he could begin courting her in earnest. Needing a distraction, he turned his attention to Murray. “Will you stay with us awhile, or do you mean to go to your father’s keep straightaway?” Murray’s mother was a cousin of the earl’s and his sire a baron whose lands bordered theirs to the south.
“I’ll leave for home after a night’s rest in Moigh Hall. My father sent word months ago that he has need of me. Our borders and crofters are being harried. There are far too many outlaws roaming the countryside, thieving what they can from smaller holdings such as ours.”
Hunter clasped Murray’s shoulder briefly. “Should you have need of our aid, dinna hesitate to send word.”
“I will, and my thanks. Should you have need of me, I’ll come tae lend a hand as well.”
“Aye, I ken as much. ’Tis good we live so near to one another.” His gaze strayed once more to Meghan. Late afternoon sun broke through the clouds again, lighting her hair until strands of it shone like polished copper. His breath caught, and his blood heated. Lust. ’Twas naught but lust for the only female within leagues of him, and Lady Meghan deserved better than his basest inclinations. Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to turn away.
What would Sky look like now that she was fully grown? Even at ten and three she’d shown promise of becoming a great beauty. He recalled the day he’d taken his leave. Her tears and the chaste kiss she’d placed upon his cheek had traveled with him throughout the continent. His lady had thick lustrous hair a deep, rich brown, and her eyes were like her mother’s—the color of a storm-tossed sea. Aye, he was meant to be with her—meant to be with a Scottish lass born in his own century. No time-traveling foreigner would do for him.
Home and clan were all that mattered.
Movement caught his eye, and he spied a lone rider approaching at a gallop. Hunter nudged Doireann into a trot, bringing him up to Meghan’s unprotected side. “Who is it, do you think?” he asked Robley, keeping his attention fixed ahead.
“I recognize him. ’Tis a guard from our garrison at Meikle Geddes.” Robley spurred his mount into a canter. The rest of their party followed suit.
“What is it, Broderick?” Robley reined his mount to a stop.
The guard dismounted. His horse’s lungs heaved, and its sides were lathered and soaked with sweat. “Milord, I bring ye dire news from home.”
“Tell me.”
“’Tis your father. We were setting out for Loch Moigh this morn when he collapsed. Your mother sent me tae find ye. She bids ye ride for home with haste.” Broderick peered up at Rob, his expression somber. “He’s no’ expected tae last through the night, milord. ’Tis sorry I am tae be carrying such sad news this day.”
“My thanks.” Rob gestured for two of his men to join him. “Can you keep up with us, Meghan?”
“Yes, if I can borrow a saddle.” Meghan twisted around to face the riders behind her.
“She’s welcome to travel on to Loch Moigh with us,” Hunter said, dismayed to hear his foster uncle was so gravely ill.
“Nay.” Robley shook his head. “You”—he gestured toward one of his men—“trade mounts with Lady McGladrey, and be quick about it.”
The guard rode forward and dismounted, and Meghan did the same. She quickly adjusted the stirrups before mounting again. Hunter opened his mouth to argue, but she gave him a slight shake of her head. He capitulated, already missing her company.
He’d grown accustomed to her presence. And somewhere along the trail, the fact that he wasn’t constantly barraged by her emotions had shifted from confounding to comforting. He didn’t have to make an effort to close off his abilities from her. She provided him with a respite from the constant flow of emotions churning around him.
“I’ll leave you with four men,” Rob told him. “Meghan and two of my guards will return to Meikle Geddes with me. Tell the earl what has happened.”
“We sent word already,” Broderick said. “Along with the missive you sent earlier. The earl is likely on his way tae Meikle Geddes as we speak. My horse is all but done in. By yer leave, milord, I’ll travel on tae Moigh Hall with the rest and return to Meikle Geddes on the morrow.”
“Of course.” Robley glanced at Meghan. “Let us be off.” He spurred his horse into a gallop, and Meghan followed with the two guards close behind.
Admiration for the way she rode the powerful warhorse—for the way she met every challenge thrown her way—swamped him. Hunter’s gut clenched. She would be out of sight and out of his reach. What if she needed him? More than once after their encounter with the thieves he’d had to comfort her when the nightmares haunted her dreams. He’d brought her here; he needed to see to her safety. After all, she was . . . his? Nay. Raking his fingers through his hair, he groaned.
Tieren cleared his throat. Hunter turned to find him and Murray staring at him. Their blatant speculation about what ailed him grated upon his nerves. “’Tis all Madame Giselle’s doing,” he muttered. “Let us be off. We’ll keep the pace slow until Broderick’s destrier has cooled down sufficiently.”
“My thanks.” Broderick surveyed his men, and then he looked to Hunter. “Who might ye be, if ye dinna mind me askin’?”
“I am Sir Hunter, Malcolm and Lady True’s foster son. This is Sir Tieren and Sir Murray.”
“Ah.” Broderick swung back up on his horse’s back. “Yer names are oft mentioned at Moigh Hall. Where is yer armor and gear? Why do ye ride bareback? We heard naught but tales of victory whilst ye were away, good sirs.”
“’Tis a long story,” Tieren told him. “And I for one dinna care to share it until we are within the safety of the curtain walls of Moigh Hall.”
“Aye.” Once again Hunter took his place at the head of the line. “The sooner we reach home the better.” News of Robley’s father weighed heavily upon his heart. ’Twould be a melancholy homecoming indeed. Robert and Lady Rosemary had always treated him as if he were truly their kin, and he had great affection for them both. ’Twas Robert who’d taught him much of what he’d learned about horses. Doireann had been one of the stallions his foster uncle had bred, and the two of them had trained the destrier together.
He gave the command to set forth, and the lads moved on in silence, each to his own thoughts. His were filled with memories of home. His earliest years had been chaotic, filled with grief, fear and desperation. The revulsion and pity thrown his way had almost crushed him.
Then Lady True had come into his life. His eyes stung, and his chest tightened. ’Twas her love that had brought him back from the brink of despair. He and his foster mother shared their own unique way of communicating, and soon he’d be reunited with her. Soon he’d be surrounded by his foster family. He’d take his place beside Sky Elizabeth, and all would be well.
Home at last. Despite the grim news about Robert, Hunter grinned so wide his cheeks ached. The village herald sounded two tones on the horn to signal their arrival just as Hunter handed Doireann over to the stable master. Once all their belongings were unloaded from the horses, Hunter strode toward the shore, trailed by Tieren and Murray. Their squires and pages busied themselves with transferring their belongings onto the ferry. “Good eve to you, Monroe. Have you the job of ferry master now?”
“Welcome home, Sir Hunt
er.” He bobbed his head. “Aye, I’m ferry master now. Me da passed two summers past.”
“Och, I’m sorry to hear it. Arlen was a good man.” He stepped onto the wooden deck. “How are the rest of your kin?”
“All are well, sir.” Monroe freed the ferry from its moorings and started the vessel across the lake toward the island. “We’ve a visitor on the isle—a knight who claims he traveled the continent with ye.”
“Have you his name?” Hunter shot him a questioning look.
“Aye. Lord Cecil of Dumfriesshire is what I’m told.”
“What is it he seeks?” Hunter’s gut roiled. Cecil had intended to do Meghan harm. His presence at Moigh Hall did not sit well with him.
“That I canna say,” Monroe said with a shrug.
“Shall I leave yet this eve for Meikle Geddes to warn Robley?” Tieren signed.
He shook his head. “Your presence would be missed, and we dinna want Cecil looking for her any farther afield than Moigh Hall. She is safe enough. Let us wait to see what he has to say.” Cecil, a Cunningham and nephew to the earl of Glencairn, must have traveled to his father’s keep before setting out for Moigh Hall. What of Gregory? He glanced Monroe’s way. “Did he come alone, or is he accompanied by another knight?”
“Nay, he has a squire, two pages and four guardsmen with him. No other knights.”
“Humph. He’s a long way from home.” The Cunninghams were a Lowland clan whose holdings were far too close to the Sassenach border for his liking. Hunter looked to the shoreline where a small crowd had gathered, bringing the grin back to his face. He searched for Sky. Mayhap she was hidden by those in front. She’d always been petite like her mother. Sending his senses forward, he detected no hint of her presence. His smile faltered.
He caught sight of Malcolm, who towered over the rest. Lady True stood by his side with two wee lasses clasping the skirt of her gown. His heart melted. Blinking against the mist in his eyes, he waited impatiently as Monroe brought the ferry to shore. He leaped onto the island and soon found himself in his da’s fierce hug.
The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) Page 9
