The Lady and the Knight (Highland Brides)

by Greiman, Lois

  Gentle fingers brushed his flesh in quite intimate places, and though twas all done in the most casual way, embarrassment seared him.

  "There now," said Fiona softly, but the laughter seemed closer to the surface of her voice now.

  "There's no need for embarrassment." She shrugged, looking out the window with a twinkle in her eye. "I've seen all there is of you."

  Saint Judas!

  "And?" whispered Shona, the same diabolical gleam in her eyes.

  "Quite impressive," said Fiona.

  And Boden hoped for oblivion.

  Boden's days passed in flashes of soft laughter and gentle kisses, introductions to an endless stream of relatives and servants, and long afternoon naps. Although Sara refused to lie with him again before the wedding, she would sit at his bedside and talk of her childhood, or sing as she fed Thomas.

  On one particular afternoon, a tall, fair-haired man stepped into the infirmary. Sara glanced up, still laughing at Boden's jest.

  "Roddy," she gasped, and launching from her stool, flew into the man's arms. He hugged her tightly to him and stroked the back of her head as one might do to a precious child.

  "My sunshine," he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment as if he would absorb the feelings deep into his soul. Pushing her to arm's length finally, he smiled into her face. "Returned to light the Highlands."

  Propped against the pillows at his back, Boden watched the exchange. The newcomer was perhaps a score of years older than himself. He wore a plain saffron tunic and a plaid of greens and browns that crossed over his chest and was pinned by a brooch in the shape of a cat's face. He was built rugged and lean, with the smile of a rogue and the confidence of a champion. It would be simple enough to be jealous of Sara's obvious affection for him, had it not been for the stark family resemblance.

  "Roddy," she repeated and taking his hand, tugged him toward the bed. ' 'I wish for ye to meet my betrothed, Sir Boden Blackblade.

  "Boden, this is..."

  "Sara's favorite uncle," Roderic said, and reaching out, clasped the younger man's hand in his own. There was a moment of silence as they weighed each other, then, "I am told we have ye to thank for returning our wee lass to us," he said.

  For a while Boden was tempted to tighten the handshake and prove himself, but the foolishness passed. ' 'Aye. She had to save my hide so many times that finally she thought twould be best if she brought me here for safekeeping."

  There was a pause, and then Roderic threw back his head and laughed as he released the other's hand. "Tis not quite the tale I was told. Well met we are, Sir Blackblade." His expression sobered, becoming almost, but not quite, somber. "Ye have my thanks, sir. Sara is like a daughter to my heart."

  "I feared ye might not return from France before the wedding," Sara said.

  Roderic laughed again. The sound seemed as common as speech to him. "Even had I not learned of your betrothal, I couldna have left Dun Ard so long."

  "No trouble there I hope," Sara said.

  "Nay, na now," Roderic said and grimaced, "for Shona is here and is bound to have brought the trouble with her. It follows her like flies to a dung heap."

  Sara laughed. "You've not found a suitable match for her yet?"

  "Who could be suitable for my Shona, when she has her mother's spirit and my own marvelous charm." His words stopped as he turned his head toward the door. "And who might this be?"

  Boden glanced sideways.

  "Margaret," Sara said softly. "Come here. There is no need to fear."

  The girl slunk forward, shy as a fawn with a stranger around. There was a smudge of dirt on her nose, and her grubby hand was wrapped about a bundle of pungent shrubbery that bore tiny white blossoms.

  Boden watched her advance toward his bed with the bouquet hugged to her narrow chest.

  "White heather," she whispered, shifting her gaze quickly to Roderic. "Lady Fiona said twill bring good luck."

  Boden's heart twisted slightly. How had his world become so full? "I need no more good luck, Maggie mine," he said. "For I have you."

  "So ye are Sara's lass," Roderic said, watching the child with a light in his eyes, "if not by nature, then by love." He smiled. "I remember when she was na bigger than ye. A mother hen she was even then. My Shona had entered the world na more than two months hence and was wont ta fuss sometimes during the night. There was a maid in the nursery to watch the babe, but Sara awoke first and decided the woman was not seeing to her duties near well enough. So she took the babe from her cradle." He shook his head. "In the morn when Flanna went to check the babe, the maid was sound asleep and Shona was gone. I think twas the first time I saw her mother truly frightened."

  Maggie's eyes were as round as silver groats as she waited for him to continue. The silence stretched away, until, able to wait no more, she bit her lip and whispered, "Where was the babe?"

  "Sara had taken her to the burn. We found them wrapped in a blanket fast asleep. She said the singing water soothed the child."

  Boden shifted his gaze to Sara's angelic face, and the day passed by with tales and laughter and satin-soft kisses.

  Finally, seeing Boden could no longer bear to be confined inside, Fiona allowed him to venture from the hall.

  It had rained the night before and the clouds still hung low over the courtyard, but the air was fresh and Sara was at his side. Though his head felt light and his leg weak, he was not about to call a halt to their walk.

  After a brief stop in the kitchens they visited Mettle. His sling had been lowered slightly so that his giant hooves just reached the ground, allowing him to bear a bit of his own immense weight. He'd learned to push off so that he could sway from side to side, and did so now, stretching his neck and his upper lip as he plucked a few select grasses from Maggie's hand.

  The little girl giggled, looking no bigger than a gosling as the destrier lowered his huge, bowed nose for the girl to stroke.

  "He'll be as round as a barrel if you keep feeding him," Boden chided.

  Mettle tilted his ears forward at the sound of his voice and swung lazily toward him, already nuzzling him for treats. "Here then," Boden said, keeping his tone gruff as he offered him a chunk of stolen bread.

  The marten slipped from Maggie's sleeve, sniffed madly and dashed up her arm to try to reach the bread. Stymied, he finally leapt from her elbow, landed on Mettle's mane and dragged himself onto the stallion's crest to perch between his ears.

  The picture was ridiculous, the laughter contagious.

  "He's never had a scrap of pride," Boden said with a chuckle, "but how does Lady Fiona confine him to the sling?"

  "Magic," said a voice from behind.

  Boden turned. Liam stood less than a dozen rods before him. They stared at each other like wary hounds.

  "The Lady Fiona has a magic for healing," Liam said, breaking the silence.

  "Aye," Boden agreed, glad to find something they could agree on, for Sara's sake, then, "I didn't know you had remained here at Glen Creag."

  "I've had things to see to and have been here and there." Liam's gaze settled on Sara for a moment. "Tis good ta see ye rested and well, lass."

  She smiled, seeming to be the only one at ease. ' 'I am well, Liam. Where have ye been? Surely not searching for Dragonheart again."

  He shrugged. The corner of his mouth lifted into a sheepish grin. "Mayhap. I was quite distraught that ya'd lose my gift."

  "I am sorry," she said, "but I had other things on my mind."

  "Such as staying alive," said a dark-haired woman who approached from Boden's right.

  He nodded at her, remembering he had met her some days past. With eyes as amethyst bright as her mother's, she was not an easy woman to forget. "Lady Rachel," he said by way of greeting.

  She smiled at him, then raised a dark brow and turned her attention to Liam. "You forget that some people value things above jewels," she said.

  "Speaking of jewels," Liam said. "What's that by your ear?'' He frowned and stepped forward with
an outstretched hand. "A pearl. Oh. No," he said, drawing his hand back and seeming to pull something from her ear as he did so. Between his fingers, a fat toad squirmed.

  Rachel arched a brow at him, looking unimpressed and unsurprised. "Still trying to turn toads into jewels, Liam?"

  Liam scowled and waved his hand with a quick snap. The toad disappeared. Boden stared.

  "The amulet was far more than a jewel," the magician said, sounding cross, either because of her disbelief or her lack of reaction to his trick. What an odd place this was, Boden thought. ' 'Twas a magical charm to keep our Sara safe."

  "A poor job it did then," said Rachel. "For she was nearly killed."

  "But she was not," Liam reminded her.

  "Neither was I," said Rachel. "Shall we attribute that to your all-powerful amulet?"

  "Nay," he said. "Tis not all-powerful, for I asked the dragon to strike ye mute."

  "Luckily it had far more sense than ye," Rachel said, "and it sent Shona and myself to seek out Sara."

  "So you were there too?" asked Boden.

  "Aye," Rachel said, catching his gaze. "Shona and I took an escort to go to London. Worried we were for Sara's well-being. Do ye not remember us lifting ye up, Sir Blackblade."

  "I remember angels," he said softly. "Angels with hair of every hue."

  "Angels," Liam scoffed, "and one she-devil. I warn ya, dunna let her near the wedding or she will surely jinx it."

  "I will be at the nuptials," Rachel said, "but mayhap I should find the amulet and implore it to keep ye away."

  "The dragon is gone. Though I searched I could not find it," Liam said.

  Rachel snorted. "Ye could not even find Warwick."

  "Shhh!" Liam interrupted sharply. "Dunna speak his name."

  Silent surprise surrounded them as all turned their gazes to Liam.

  He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed at his own skittishness. "I found no body."

  Sara laughed. "When did ye become such a worrier? He is dead. Boden killed him. I saw him fall."

  Liam took a deep breath and chuckled, seemingly at his own foolishness. "Aye, he is dead.

  There is naught to delay your wedding." He paused. The courtyard was silent but for the sound of the windlass as someone hauled water from the well. "Ya have my best wishes."

  Silence again.

  "And?" Rachel said, staring at him.

  Liam cleared his throat. "And my apologies for wounding ya, Sir Boden. Twas not my intent, I assure ya. I but tried to protect Sara. I thought ye were the dark wizard. And when I saw twas you, I thought her safer in your care than in mine."

  "Not to mention you feared that Boden-would part your head from your body," Rachel said.

  Liam grinned like a satyr. "Aye. Not to mention that."

  Boden forced himself to relax marginally. Perhaps he would never like this man who was so different from himself, and yet held a piece of Sara's heart. But he could, at least, understand his desire to protect her.

  "You are forgiven," he said.

  "Good." Liam stepped forward and thrust out his hand. "Ye have my congratulations, Sir Knight."

  Boden reached out, momentarily wondering where the toad had gone before their hands clasped. Nothing repulsive touched his skin. Their gazes clashed, but then Liam leaned forward slightly, looking over Boden's shoulder.

  "Ye know she's the best woman in all of Christendom." Liam said the words softly, for Boden's ears alone.

  "Aye. That I know."

  "And if ye mistreat her..." He paused. "I'll turn ye into a frog."

  "You can put your mind at ease," Boden said, offering Liam a smile. "I've never much liked the water."

  The day of the wedding finally arrived. Not a cloud marred the autumn sky. The trees were etched in colors so bright it all but hurt the eyes to look upon them—golds, crimsons, russets, and the last, stubborn remnants of green.

  Glen Creag's great hall was festooned with bunches of heather and sweet-smelling sprays of purple thistle. But most of the throng of visitors reveled outside.

  Children ran foot races, walked on stilts, and played blindman's buff. Little Margaret sat atop Mettle and watched the revelry with wide-eyed wonder. Her hair was plaited, wound around her skull, and adorned with wild-flowers. Her small face, although solemn, seemed aglow. Her gown was made of fine yellow satin. There was a stain on the collar and from the sleeve, a weasel poked his head.

  Tilly escaped her pen and wandered at will through the throng, lapping up any unguarded spirits, until she disgraced herself a number of times and they were forced to tie her to the tree next to Mettle's.

  Liam entertained the crowd with magic tricks and argued with Rachel.

  Shona charmed half the male assemblage and won the archery contest, defeating even her father, who swore he had allowed her to win.

  And just after the vows were completed Boden and Sara slipped away.

  "Explain it to me again," Boden said, turning Sara in his arms.

  Her gown was bell-shaped, made of soft, russet satin that was cinched at her tiny waist and squared at the neckline. But it was her smile that stole his attention. "Explain what, my lord?"

  "How I have found heaven on earth?"

  She laughed, the sound silvery light. "Luck?" she suggested.

  He shook his head and leaning forward, kissed her lightly. "Nay. Nothing so wondrous could be from simple luck."

  She sighed as his kisses slipped down her throat. '"Mayhap Liam is right, then, maybe the dragon brought us together. Mayhap twas its intent to bring me my one true love."

  He leaned back slightly, studying her, the blue of her eyes, the warmth of her smile. "I have never believed in magic," he said, "until I saw you."

  The comment gained him a kiss.

  "Then you think twas the amulet that drew you to me when I was fleeing north with Liam, twas the amulet that gave me my dreams?"

  He shrugged. "Stranger things have happened, I suppose."

  "But I worry then," she said, narrowing her eyes and stepping away from him. "If twas Dragonheart that drew you to me, mayhap ye will lose interest now that it is gone."

  "Lose interest?" He breathed the words. "In you?"

  She watched him through her lashes as she nodded, but suddenly she was in his arms again, held tight against the power of his chest.

  "Never. Not as long as the sun rises and the seasons change. Forever and always you will be my heart," he swore.

  Their lips met in a vow as solid as stone, and far away, in the icy depths of the Burn Creag, Dragonhead smiled.

  Lois Greiman was born on a cattle ranch in central North Dakota where she learned to ride and spit with the best of them. After graduating from high school, she moved to Minnesota to train and how Arabian horses. But eventually she fell in love, became an aerobics instructor and gave birth to three of her best friend.

  She sold her first novel in 1992 and has published more than thirty titles since then, including romantic comedy, historical romance, children’s stories, and her fun-loving Christina McMullen mysteries. A two-time Rita finalist, she has won such prestigious honors as Romantic Times Storyteller Of The Year, MFW’s Rising Star, RT’s Love and Laughter, the Toby Bromberg for most humorous mystery, and the LaVyrle Spencer Award. Her heroes have received K.I.S.S. recognition numerous times and her books have been seen regularly among the industries Top Picks!

  With more than two million books printed worldwide, Ms Greiman currently lives on the Minnesota tundra with her family, some of whom are human. In her spare time she likes to ride some of her more hirsute companions in high speed events such as barrel racing and long distance endurance rides.

  http://www.loisgreiman.com

  http://www.facebook.com/lois.greiman

  http://www.facebook.com/ChrissyMcMullenMysteries

  Other Lois Greiman books available on Smashwords:

  Uncorked at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/117764

  Short Stories by Lois Greiman available on Smashw
ords:

  Unfortunate at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/110383

  Beloved Beast at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/106582

  Document Outline

  Praise for Lois Greiman

  Copyright © 2012 Lois Greiman

  To Gail Swenson, my idol.

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  ABOUT AUTHOUR

  Other Lois Greiman books available on Smashwords: