The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3)

by Barbara Longley

  “My lady,” he said with a bow, gesturing for her to precede him. “Mayhap we shall soon have tidings of the Romany’s whereabouts.”

  “I hope so.”

  They reached the great hall, and he took her elbow. “I am the eldest nephew of the earl of Glencairn, and third in line to inherit the title.”

  She moved far enough away that he had to let go of her. “Good for you.”

  “Regrettably, your circumstances will make it quite difficult for you to marry well,” he continued, his tone a little sharper. “You possess no land, nor dowry, and though you are descended from a noble line, we canna share your origins. Nonetheless, I am willing—”

  Obviously her guardian hadn’t made it known that he’d promised a dowry for her, or he meant it only for Tieren. Probably a good thing. “None of that matters, since I plan to do everything I can to get home.”

  “Mayhap ’twill no’ be possible for you to return.” They reached the door, and once again he took her arm. Only this time, he gripped her a little harder. “You will be forced to marry if such is the case. Choose me, and your bairns will be of noble blood. Choose elsewhere, and your issue will come to naught.”

  “I’m not interested.” Meghan jerked away. “With your pedigree, I’m certain you can do better. Besides, I’d rather my issue come to naught than to live out the rest of my days with the creep who suggested I be bound and left behind in the forest.”

  “Surely you realize what a shock the events of that day caused me,” he hissed. “Consider well before you choose, my lady. You dinna wish to make an enemy of the Glencairns.”

  “Meghan, Cecil.” Hunter jogged up the stairs to meet them. “I was just coming to find you.” His sharp glance went from her to Cecil and back again. He took her by the elbow and drew her to his side. “Two of the men I sent to search for Giselle’s whereabouts have returned. Once they put their gear away, they will meet us here in the great hall. Would you see to refreshments for the two returning guardsmen, lass? We’ll gather at the table anon.”

  Meghan’s insides still churned from her exchange with Cecil, and now her heart leaped to her throat. “Did your men locate Giselle?”

  “Aye, but I bid them wait until we are together before they speak of it. Go to the kitchens. We’ll hear what they have to say in a trice.”

  She could be returned home soon. Her eyes met Hunter’s, and an overwhelming flood of regret and sadness nearly dropped her to her knees. Stupid knight. Stupid me! Yep. She was already half in love with a man who didn’t want her, and stuck in a time she didn’t belong.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Once Meghan left the great hall for the kitchen, Hunter focused his senses on the man beside him. Anger and frustration emanated from Cecil. Hunter’s hand went instinctively to the dagger at his belt, tensing for battle. He forced himself to calm down, forced his voice into a nonconfrontational tone. “What did you say to Meghan? She seemed distraught.”

  “I ken no reason why she would be distraught. I offered for her.” He grunted. “I am her better in every way, yet she refused me. She owns no property, has no political connections and possesses no fortune. The foolish woman should have been pleased that I am willing to wed her despite her desperate circumstances. Lady Meghan needs to learn her place,” Cecil snapped. “I intend to teach it to her.”

  Cecil’s rage surged, and Hunter sensed violence in the other man’s heart. He forced himself to remain calm. ’Twas best to keep Cecil talking. Mayhap in his anger, he’d reveal more than he intended. “’Tis true.” Hunter folded his arms and looked askance at the other knight. “She has naught in the way of land, wealth or political connections, so . . . why do you want her?”

  “Hmm?” Cecil seemed to recall himself. His attention shifted fully to Hunter. “She’s a comely enough lass, aye? My clan and family have land and fortune enough that I can choose to marry where I will.”

  “If she said you nay, ’tis best to accept it.” Hunter nearly choked on the deceit emanating from the other knight. ’Twas all he could do to keep himself from wrapping his hands around Cecil’s neck. “I willna’ allow you to molest her in any way nor will any in my clan. She will return to the protection of her father, or we will keep her here under our protection.”

  “To wed Tieren, the son of an alewife? You would oppose me in this?” Cecil glared. “By God, you risk incurring the wrath of the earl of Glencairn and clan Cunningham.”

  “Your uncle’s holdings lie far to our south.” Hunter shrugged. “Our clan has had no dealings with yours in the past—for good or ill. Do you truly believe your uncle would turn against a clan as powerful as the MacKintosh? Does the earl of Glencairn hold you in such high regard that he’d risk bloodshed over a foreign lass with naught to recommend her, simply because she refused you?”

  “’Tis certain you are correct, and my uncle would no’ shed blood over a foreigner.” Cecil capitulated, his eyes sliding away from Hunter’s. “Let us no’ quibble over a mere woman. I allowed my emotions to get the better of me is all. Where Lady Meghan is concerned, it happens far too oft for my peace of mind.”

  Was it only injured pride goading Cecil? Were his threats as shallow and empty as his character? Hunter searched for deeper intent, sensing naught but Cecil’s struggle to bring himself under control. Now that Meghan had rejected his suit, mayhap their unwanted guest would return to Glencairn. He hoped so. “Aye. We’ve kent each other far too long to allow a woman to come between us. I trow she will soon be returned to her kin. Let us put all of this behind us.”

  Tieren and the two returning guardsmen entered the great hall at the same time Meghan returned from the kitchen. “Molly said she’d send servants with food soon. In the meantime, I brought ale.” She placed the tray holding an ewer and several tankards on the trestle table.

  “Lady Meghan, this is Patrick,” Tieren said as he gestured toward one of the guardsmen and then the other, “and this is Bain.”

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” Meghan said. The two warriors bowed to her before pulling out one of the short benches to sit at the table. Meghan filled the tankards and passed them around as everyone took a place.

  Hunter reached for the mug she held out to him. Their fingers touched, and his heart took flight. By the saints, ’twould be good to send her home at last. His life would return to normal. ’Twas far too unsettling, this havoc she stirred within him. The merest touch, the feel of her skin against his, and his blood rushed. With his need to protect her, his desire to posses her, make her his . . . he could find no peace.

  He didn’t want these desperate emotions or this all-consuming longing. He didn’t want to need anyone. Doing so would surely lead to his ruin—as it had before. He gripped his tankard with both hands, his chest tight. His poor heart would not survive another loss like he’d suffered when his ma and his granny had died.

  He forced himself to regain control. He was a knight, after all, and well schooled in self-discipline. Wrestling his errant thoughts into submission, he took a long draught of the ale and turned his attention to the matter at hand.

  Meghan settled herself on the bench beside him—close enough that her warmth and proximity drove him to distraction all over again. Aye, once she returned to her own time, he’d be able to purge himself of the effect she had on him. He inhaled her unique sweet scent, taking it in deep to hold forever in his keeping. God help him. He’d not purge her from his senses so easily. She would haunt him all the days of his life. “What news have you to share?”

  Patrick leaned in. “We found the wanderers. The old crone you seek still travels with them. Bain and I followed their trail for a handful of days.” He rapped his knuckles against the table. “They’re heading toward Inverness. ’Tis certain.”

  “Aye.” Bain nodded. “We left them camped by Loch Dún Seilcheig. The Romany wagons stop oft along the way to trade with local villagers. ’Twill take the
m a se’nnight at least to reach Inverness at their current pace. If we leave at first light on the morrow, we’ll arrive in Inverness at the same time they do.”

  “Inverness is a large and prosperous borough. I suspect the Romany will remain there for some time, and Madame Giselle will once again inhabit her cottage.” Hunter glanced at Meghan. “If it pleases you, lass, we’ll leave two days hence. I’ve much to do to prepare for the journey, and arrangements must be made for my absence.”

  “Angus would be willing to continue on in your stead for a fortnight, aye?” Tieren’s brow rose. “Or if you wish to remain at Moigh Hall, I’d be more than happy to escort Lady Meghan to Inverness . . . whilst you remain here.”

  Hunter snorted. He opened his mouth to retort, only to have Meghan interrupt.

  “We can wait two days.” She placed her hand on his forearm for a second, the touch singeing his nerves.

  “There is safety in numbers,” she continued. “I haven’t forgotten what happened on the road to Aberdeenshire, and I’d just as soon have Hunter along. He’s almost as handy with a broadsword as you are, Tieren.”

  She praised Tieren? Hunter’s jaw clenched so hard he feared cracking one of his back teeth or two. He’d been the one to protect her from the start. Hadn’t he soothed her when bad dreams haunted her sleep? Hadn’t he been the one to procure clean clothing and a comb in an effort to please her? He’d kept her safe, made sure she was fed and provided for, and did she praise him?

  Nay. She did not.

  “’Tis settled.” Cecil rubbed his hands together. “I must send word to my kin of my plans to accompany you on your journey to Inverness. I’ll have two of my men take the missive this very day. My other two guardsmen will join us.”

  Hunter sensed naught but the truth and a measure of triumph from the knight. “Do you require the services of your pages? Mayhap send them home with your guards. I dinna plan to bring Allain.”

  “Aye, I will have the lads travel on to Glencairn ahead of me. The way south is safe enough for any carrying our standard.” He glanced at Meghan for an instant. “My armor and gear still remain at Castle Inverness. Once we reach the keep, I shall collect my property and depart for home.” He rose from the table and bowed. “I shall see you in the lists on the morrow.”

  Hunter nodded absently and watched Cecil’s back as he departed. Had their guest truly capitulated, or was he more skilled at burying his purpose than he gave him credit?

  “Does he have to come with us?” Meghan’s voice held a plaintive tone. “He threatened me not more than ten minutes ago.”

  Tieren’s expression hardened. “How so?”

  Servants arrived with food for Patrick and Bain, and Meghan briefly described what had transpired between her and Cecil.

  “I will see that you come to no harm, Meg.” Tieren reached across the table and placed his hands over hers. “You have my word.”

  “Thank you.” Color rose to her cheeks.

  More than anything, Hunter wanted to rip Tieren’s hands from her. He couldn’t bear having another man touch her. “I’ve already spoken with Cecil on the matter.” He stood up abruptly, nearly tipping his bench. “His threats are naught but empty words. We are a powerful clan, and the earl of Glencairn will no’ want us as enemies.” Surveying the great hall, he plowed his fingers through his hair. “We leave two days hence. Tieren, see to choosing six of our best men for the journey. I’ll have our cook prepare camp fare for a se’nnight.” He started out for the door.

  “What should I do?” Meghan glanced up at him.

  “Mollify the twins. They will no’ be pleased to hear they are soon to lose their martial arts trainer.” He made the mistake of looking into her lovely brown eyes. Would his innards ever cease their tumbling at the sight of her? “Inform Robley of our plans, and I suspect the ladies of the keep will want to hear the news as well.”

  His foster father and Sky had been gone for most of the day and would surely return from the mainland soon. Hunter wanted things settled between him and Sky before he left for Inverness. The more he felt for Meghan, the more determined he became to rid himself of the debilitating affliction. A man so distracted, so besotted, was good for naught. How could he protect his kin and clan whilst his thoughts spun out of control every time he set eyes on her? Aye, he could not allow himself to become so compromised by emotion—or lust. Meghan rendered him weak-kneed and unable to hold on to rational thought.

  By the saints, I willna have it!

  Hunter strode across the bailey. He’d spoken with Angus, and now he’d plant himself at the ferry landing until Sky returned to the island. On the way toward the portcullis, he passed the lists. The twins, squires and pages all stood in rapt attention before Meghan, and what he heard coming from her sweet mouth brought him to a halt.

  “Size does not matter,” she shouted.

  His brow shot up, and he had to keep his jaw from dropping. What the devil did she intend to teach the lads this day? The adolescents, David and Owain included, shifted uncomfortably, and the younger boys sniggered. Hunter changed his direction, drawing nearer to see what she was up to. At least the lads now wore hose and tunics for their training.

  The lass had the audacity to grin at the discomfited lads. “You heard me right. Size. Does. Not. Matter. In fact, you can use your opponent’s weight and height to your advantage.” She faced her charges with her hands on her slender hips. “Who would like to help me demonstrate?” Again they glanced at each other, their consternation clear.

  “Come on.” She beckoned with her hand. “I promise not to hurt you too badly.”

  George took the bait and stepped forward. “I volunteer, milady.”

  “Good. I want you to come at me like you mean to take me down.” She moved him into position and stepped several paces away. She noticed Hunter standing nearby and smiled at him.

  Hunter folded his arms in front of him and nodded a greeting.

  “Don’t be shy or worry about me just because I’m a woman, George. You and I have sparred with broadswords enough for you to know that I can take care of myself. Charge me like you mean it.”

  “Aye, milady.” The squire lowered his head and ran at her. At the last moment, she tucked herself into a ball and let his weight settle over her shoulders and back. Then she straightened, using her legs and his weight to send him flying head over heels. George landed on his back with a thud.

  The pages cheered, and the twins beamed their approval. “Well met, Beag Curaidh,” Hunter called, reveling in the way his words brought a rosy glow to her face. Shaking his head, he continued on toward the portcullis once again. Never had he encountered such a lass, and ’twas likely he never would again.

  Late afternoon, and still Sky and Malcolm tarried in the village. Hunter scanned the mainland and paced. Finally he spied movement upon the far shore. His breath left him, and he ceased his pacing. He didn’t want to appear as if he’d spent the better part of his day wearing a new path upon the shoreline. Though that’s exactly what he’d done. He scrubbed his face with both hands, trying to rid himself of the frustration fogging his mind.

  He returned to pacing. If groveling at Sky’s feet was what it took to return his life to some semblance of order, so be it. Mayhap if he slammed his head against the boulder before him, he could knock thoughts of Meghan out of his mind. Was such a thing possible? Eyeing the granite protruding from the ground, he pondered the possibilities. Hadn’t he heard tell of men who’d suffered wounds to the head losing all memory of who they were?

  The ferry approached. Sky and Malcolm stood on the wooden planks, waving a greeting. Hunter waved back, his palms moist and his ears ringing with the rush of his blood. Ever since he’d laid eyes on Meghan McGladrey, the careful foundation upon which he’d built his life had begun to crumble. Bit by bit his dreams proved harder to hold. The curtain walls around his heart had been breached, and
now was the time to shore up his defenses.

  Sky Elizabeth was his salvation, his refuge. She always had been. His nerves settled as the ferry landed. He reached out a hand to help his lady disembark.

  “Good day, Malcolm,” he said with a nod toward his foster father. “Sky, might I have a word?” He trapped her small hand in his, lest she take her leave before he had his say.

  “Of course, Hunter.” She stepped onto the sand and smiled up at him.

  “Lad.” Malcolm nodded back. “What news? We saw two riders returning.”

  “Giselle has been found. Two days hence I will set out for Inverness with Meghan, Tieren and six of our soldiers.” He led Sky up the slight incline, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “You’ll be relieved to hear of Cecil’s plans.”

  “Will I?” Malcolm cocked an eyebrow.

  “Cecil offered for Meghan. She refused him, and once he’s journeyed with us to Inverness to retrieve his armor and gear, he’s leaving us for Glencairn.”

  “’Tis good news indeed.” Malcolm chuckled. “And good riddance. Dinna let down your guard, lad. The journey to Inverness will take five days, at the very least three if you ride hard. ’Tis more than enough time for Cecil to contrive some sort of mischief.”

  “I never let down my guard.”

  “Good. I will see you at the evening meal then. Dinna stay away from your mother overlong, Sky. She’ll want to hear all the gossip from the village.”

  “I’ll seek her out anon, Da.” Sky lifted her chin to gaze up at Hunter. “What is it you wish to speak to me about, dear brother?”

  Had she put emphasis on the word brother? Hunter waited until Malcolm was well away before replying. “I am no’ your brother, my lady. I am your suitor.”

  “Nay, dinna say such a thing.” She squeezed his arm and smiled sweetly, though she pulsed with anxiety. “You will always be my elder brother. Were you no’ there at the day of my birth? Have our father and mother no’ claimed you as their own?”