Protection By Her Deceptive Highlander (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 5)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Sir?”

  He looked up, hearing Selkirk, the steward. He nodded. “What?”

  The older man licked dry lips. “Sir…soldiers came back from the mission – the one you sent them on. They have a message for you.”

  “What news?” Brodgar said, instantly alert. He followed the older man down the hallway, heart thudding. He hadn’t realized how he’d been waiting to hear back from these men.

  “Sir, they returned earlier this afternoon. Said they had to speak with you personally. I understand they found something of interest to you.” The man looked almost affronted, as if he had expected that they would show it to him first, whatever it was.

  “Thank you,” Brodgar said, as he caught sight of soldiers standing in the hallway. “I will speak with them alone.”

  “Sir!” the leader of the group said – Brodgar recognized him as Keith, his trusted scout. He followed him into a small antechamber, letting the curtain drop over the entrance. “Sir…regarding the mission…”

  “What news?”

  The man reached for the leather satchel he wore, opening it even as he spoke. “You asked us to search the site of the attack, and look for whatever we could find. We found something that might be of interest…” as he finished speaking, he unrolled it. Brodgar stared.

  “Where was this?”

  It was a cloak – gray and green, an article that could only have been owned by someone in his household, somebody highly ranked. As he shook it out, he felt himself gasp for breath. Ash stained, the thing had clearly lain under the shrubs of the forest quite a while. He frowned at it, wondering how it had come to be there.

  “It was hidden under a bush, sir,” the man said slowly. “Behind the signs of the skirmish, towards the fortress.”

  “You mean…” Brodgar stared at him. He was almost shocked that somebody could have left such a thing there…if he had asked for a sign, some proof of his uncle’s involvement in it, he could not have chosen something more incriminating.

  “It had been hidden there, sir. I think the wearer wished it not to be known that he was from here.”

  Brodgar swallowed. At once, the shock of being right was too much. In some way, he had almost hoped it had been English soldiers. Knowing, beyond a doubt, that his own uncle had shot his own men, in a bid to oust him…it was a bitter knowledge.

  “Keith, thank you,” Brodgar said through a tight throat. “I need a moment to clear my mind.”

  “Of course, sir.” Keith saluted and went outside, leaving Brodgar alone.

  Brodgar shut his eyes, feeling a sharp pain through his heart. The depth of the betrayal crashed down on him, even as he felt the relief of finally knowing the truth.

  “I need to see him.”

  Taking the cloak out with him, not wanting to risk anybody finding it, he headed across the hallway and out into the courtyard.

  “Where is my uncle? I need to see him.” He marched across the courtyard, addressing the master-at-arms, who frowned.

  “Your uncle is in the gallery, sir,” he said. “He was here not a moment ago. Is it…”

  “Call him, please,” he said formally. “I need to see him alone. In my office.”

  “Sir?”

  Brodgar didn’t elaborate, just headed back inside to his office and waited.

  The fire danced in the grate, and Brodgar found himself starting to get nervous. Would his uncle respond? Or would his first response be force, when he guessed that Brodgar knew about him?

  “Nephew,” a voice as smooth as lamp-oil said from the hallway. Brodgar turned.

  “Uncle.” His own voice was hard like slate.

  “You called me. I presume you wish to discuss deployment of the men, against the garrison..?”

  “No.” Brodgar said, turning now to face his uncle. “Uncle, I wished to discuss this.”

  “What?” his uncle murmured. Then, as Brodgar shook out the cloak, he stared at him, the look of bemusement quickly veiled to nothing.

  “I think you know what this is.”

  Brodgar watched as his uncle recovered his composure almost instantly. The shuttered look came back into his eyes, concealing fear or anger or whatever else lurked there. His voice was as level as ever.

  “I should think I do. It is a guardsman’s cloak. One of our own. Why ask me?”

  “Because it should never have been in the woods, on the other side of our position, by the garrison manned by our enemy. Not, say, when we were being ambushed by enemies?”

  “Nephew…” his uncle stared. Brodgar had a glimpse at real fear, and then his uncle shook his head, recovering immediately. “What of it? There was a defector. He will be found, and punished.”

  “A defector? When we have lost no men, save those who fell in battle, and you know that as well as I do?” Brodgar asked.

  “We must have missed someone,” his uncle said. “And…well, so what if we did not? It’s a cloak, nephew.”

  He sounded desperate, and Brodgar couldn’t help a grim satisfaction mingling with pity. He had never seen his uncle so disconcerted. This was the first display of any form of emotion he’d ever seen from the man. He tried not to let that show on his face and schooled his expression neutral.

  “It is not what it is, but where it was,” he said. “Why would it be hidden behind enemy lines. But there was no enemy, was there? It was your men, who hid in the cover of the trees, to wait for us.”

  “This is nonsense! This proves nothing,” he added, casting the cloak onto the table.

  “No,” Brodgar said carefully. “It might prove nothing on its own. But, maybe Callum could be prevailed on to ask questions. Where did he go, that night? He was not long with me.”

  He felt his own calm turning to rage as he considered it. Callum had been riding with him and then he’d disappeared, conveniently, as the shooting started. He had arrived – miraculously unscathed – by the side of his uncle not half an hour later. Was that not odd?

  He looked at his uncle, who had gone abruptly pale. He took a step back. “You have not questioned him.”

  “No, but I will,” Brodgar said lightly. “I wonder what he would tell me.”

  “You have lost your wits,” his uncle said, but he had backed to the door and was stepping out into the hallway. Brodgar didn’t bother to follow. He shouted after him.

  “I wonder what he would tell me. Maybe he would also tell me why we were conveniently led away from here, just at the time when the castle was coming under ambush.”

  His uncle said nothing. Brodgar stood alone in the room in the sudden silence. He could hear his uncle shouting at the guards, calling for a horse. He wondered where he was going. He didn’t much care. He had Callum in the attic, under the guard of his men. He could – should he wish – question him and find out the truth. However, he knew already – his uncle’s behavior was as good as a confession.

  He leaned on the table, utterly exhausted. It had been an ugly scene, and he was glad it was over.

  “Brodgar?”

  He looked up, opening his eyes. Barra was there – his sweet, beautiful wife. He reached for her hands and she smiled at him and he took her in his arms, knowing that he had never felt this wonderful before.

  “Barra. He’s gone. I don’t know where. I think this might be the last we will see of him.” He said it disbelievingly – his uncle’s presence had been a dark cloud on his existence for so long, it barely seemed possible that he might not ever have to contend with him again.

  Barra just held him close. They were sitting together on a single big seat, and she snuggled up to his chest. He felt his heart melt and he rested his face on her hair, enjoying the stillness together.

  It was a week later when the news was brought to Brodgar while he read through documents in his office. His uncle had left the region. He had taken up residence with Brodgar’s great-uncle, a man who owned land near their northern border.

  “Sir?” his steward said, frowning at him. “What are we to do? Should we s
end an envoy, to attempt to reason with him?”

  “No.” Brodgar shook his head slowly. “I think it is best if he stays there. I have no wish to have him back again. How is our security on the northern border?”

  “As you know, sir, it is the best defended border of the estate.”

  “Good, good.” Brodgar nodded, frowning as he made his plans. He was sure that, no matter what his uncle did, there was little chance of him staging a coup from that side of the landholding. Besides, he knew well that his great-uncle was a man bent on remaining as peaceful as possible. No, his uncle would get no assistance from him should he wish to fight him.

  “So, we are to send no envoy,” his steward said – a statement, rather than a question.

  “That’s correct,” Brodgar nodded. “And, thank you. This information is most valuable.”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  When his steward had gone, Brodgar stood for a moment, just looking out of the window. It was so strange to see the world out there beyond the windows and think that he would never need to consider his uncle and his wiles. He would never have to look over his shoulder and think about what the old fox was doing, or worry about when he would next strike to undermine him.

  He felt his shoulders slump at the thought, as if a profound weight had been lifted from him.

  He turned away from the window and headed down the hallway. He had not gone far when he heard a light voice coming from the solar. He stopped and went in, listening as he did.

  “And two in green thread, and…”

  He smiled to himself. Barra had not ever been taught to sew in the way of ladies – painting delicate pictures for wall-hangings with needle and silk. It was harder, he thought, for people to learn a task later in life, but it seemed that she’d accepted the challenge with speed. He came in to find her bent over a tapestry, eyes slit as she counted rows.

  “Hello,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her by sneaking up on her.

  “Hello,” she said, and smiled up, reaching for him. She pressed her face into his shoulder and he kissed her hair, sliding down to sit with her in the big seat.

  “You’re working on the tapestry?” he asked her.

  She smiled. “I’m just sewing the background. I don’t think I’ll ever get up to being able to do the figures. This one’s got a dragon on it, and roses. Who draws these things, anyway?”

  He had to smile, hearing her bold opinion. He stroked her hair and knew that he’d never been so happy.

  “It will be a fine tapestry,” he said. He looked out of the window. It was sunset, and he thought there could be no better time than this to make the announcement he had been longing to make. “Will you come outside?”

  “Of course,” Barra said, standing and reaching for her shawl – the wind outside was chilly, despite the warmth of the sunlight that poured into the solar. “Where are we…”

  “Onto the terrace,” Brodgar said, and led her ahead of him to the terrace that overlooked the courtyard. She followed him out, and he paused for a moment, clearing his throat. His men were still all down there, just finishing their training at arms. He cleared his throat.

  “Men! I am pleased to see your progress – so many of you have learned so much in such a short time! I am here to make two announcements. First – many of you know that my uncle has left us. I have learned today that he is housed at Inmore, and he will not return here.”

  He was surprised when a patchy cheer arose from the men. He had not thought his uncle so generally feared. He paused, letting the sound die away. Beside him, Barra stood closer to him and he rested his hand beside hers on the rail.

  “I have a second announcement to make,” he said, feeling his own heart go tense as he readied himself to say it. He glanced at Barra, but she looked unbothered – just slightly confused. He rested his hand on hers briefly, to give himself courage. “I think you all know Barra, who stands beside me,” he said in a clear voice.

  “Aye!” one of the men shouted, lifting his lance in salutation. “Cheers to Barra, who lifted the siege!”

  “Barra! Barra!” the men all shouted. The sound echoed.

  Brodgar waited for the acclaim to quieten, and then rested his hand on hers again. He turned to her and smiled, then cleared his throat and declaimed: “I know you all know and love her. What you do not all know – or many of you who followed my uncle may not – is that I have married Barra, and that she is henceforth the lady of this castle.”

  He heard Barra give a gasp of surprise, and then, to his wonderment, the whole courtyard erupted in cheers.

  He stood there, heart full of joy, and he turned to look at Barra, whose eyes were filled with tears that shone in the last light of the setting sun.

  “Three cheers to Barra,” he whispered, turning and taking her in his arms, so only they could hear him. “My dearest wife.”

  Epilogue

  Barra sat by the fire, listening to the sound of wood crackling, the smell of smoke rising as the sparks caught and the tinder burned.

  She looked up, listening a moment to where Brodgar was walking in the forest, a twig cracking under his weight. He was usually so careful in the woods, able to walk without a sound. That he had stepped on something showed he was distracted. She grinned to herself.

  “He should be distracted,” she whispered, as he came into view at the edge of the clearing. She grinned to herself.

  Going on a picnic with his wife should be a distracting experience.

  She smiled and shut her eyes a moment, letting the peace of the forest sink in, settling on her soul. She had felt so good – at ease – when she and Brodgar had traveled alone in the woods. She was trying to think of the castle as her home, but nothing made her feel more at ease than when they were alone together.

  “Hello,” he said, coming out of the woods, a bundle of tinder in his arms. His voice was sweet and low, and he set down the bundle and sat beside her on the grass, wrapping his arms around her.

  Barra shut her eyes, feeling his warm, strong arms grip her. She felt so right, nestled against him – good and safe. She turned to press her lips to his face, feeling longing start to rise in her.

  “Is the fire catching?” he asked, then answered his own question, turning to lift the twigs, nodding, satisfied, to see how well the flames were burning.

  “It is,” Barra replied, kissing his face. “Soon, we should have water ready for tea.”

  “Good. I’m hungry,” he said, and she thought that the light in his eyes suggested more than just hunger for bread and cheese. She felt her stomach tighten and grinned at him as his mouth pressed lightly to her own.

  “We should wait until we reach a warm bed,” Barra reminded him. “The woods are perilous.”

  “Keith and the others on guard are far enough away,” he smiled, stroking her hair. “I don’t think they’d notice if we took advantage of the unseasonable warmth.”

  She felt her own heart race and she kissed his lips, filled with longing for him.

  “We ought to finish boiling tea, and then fine a suitable shelter first,” she teased.

  He nodded, pretending to be contrite. “Of course. We should tend the fire,” he nodded, though his eyes sparkled and she knew he was anything but remorseful.

  She smiled, heart thudding, and bent to tend the fire.

  When they had eaten and drunk, they stretched out on the grass. It was a rare day – one when Brodgar could turn his back, for a moment, on the duties of being chief, and spend time with her. She ran her fingers through his red hair, pleased to feel his body start to relax under her touch.

  He rolled over and pulled her to him, his lips warm on hers. She flushed and sat up, body aching, and pointed to a shelter by the trees. He smiled and wrapped her in his arms, holding her close.

  “We should go there,” he agreed. “We will be less in danger of being discovered.”

  She grinned and, feeling her pulse race, they slipped into the shelter of wooden walls.

&n
bsp; He reached for her dress, unbuttoning it eagerly. She shut her eyes, eager hands stroking him. His tunic was easy to lift off over his head, his breeches fastened with a cloth belt. She was breathless as they tumbled out of their clothes, lying together on the hay.

  “Brodgar,” she murmured, as he drew her to him, his lips searching the skin of her neck, mouth seeking her breast. Her body ached for him and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, feeling how his knee moved between hers, moving up to make space between her legs for him.

  She gasped and held him and he rolled onto her, pushing into her and gently moving out, his speed slow and exploring, taking time to find her special places. She could feel her body starting to reach a place of greater longing, her heart thudding fit to burst as he entered her again and again, rubbing over the spots that ached for him.

  She cried out as the feelings became impossible to withstand, and then, gasping, he lay down on her, his own passions finding release.

  She felt cool air on her skin and opened her eyes, stirring where she had been half-asleep below him. He rolled off and she cradled her head on his shoulder and they rested a while longer.

  “I love you,” he whispered as he woke, bending to kiss her cheek.

  “I love you, too,” Barra murmured in his ear, her lips stretching with her smile as she thought of the special secret she had. The thought was so wonderful, it made her grin with the sheer joy of it.

  “What is it?” he asked softly. “I can hear you…you’re smiling.”

  She laughed and kissed his cheek. “You have good ears,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he said, smiling as he shifted position, so he could look into her eyes. “I do my best.”

  She giggled and stroked the hair over his ears, and he laughed, showing she’d found a ticklish spot. She kissed his cheek. “I wonder if your son will have your ears.”

  “My son?” he frowned at her.