The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  She was vivacious, fearless, and well trained. She stirred his blood like no lass before her. He doubted he would meet anyone like her again.

  He left the last tree, dangling first from its lowest branch to let his muscles stretch. Once done, he went quickly to his room and retrieved his sword. It didn’t matter if he didn’t practice with a flesh and blood opponent. Practicing alone let him devise new combinations.

  He walked to the grassy field, rolling his wrist and making the long blade dance in the night air. He pulled his axe free from its place in his belted plaid, and gave it a good swing.

  And almost cut Aleysia in half.

  She stepped back on lightning quick reflexes and swung a sword of her own at him.

  Before he had time to take in what was going on, he sent his blade chopping down on hers, imbedding hers in the ground.

  He gave her a moment and stepped back while she pulled her weapon free. She’d changed into her hose and léine, with a dark bodice laced up the front. She’d also cast off her bluebell circlet and wore her long hair braided down her back.

  “What d’ye think ye’re doin’, Aleysia?” he demanded, tossing away his axe and walking back and forth before her.

  “I want to practice with you,” she told him, stepping back with her freed sword. “Is that so terrible?”

  “It could be dangerous,” he answered. “Our sight is poor.”

  “William says you are the Scottish king’s finest soldier.” She raised her sword, ready to spar again. “I want to practice with the best.”

  Moonlight caught her smile as it flashed off her blade. It held him captive long enough to slow his reflexes and he barely dodged a swipe intended for his throat.

  “Are we fightin’ fer blood then?” he asked, eyes gleaming.

  She shrugged her dainty shoulder. “That depends on how well you block me.”

  He gave out a short, surprised laugh at her boldness, and then readied his sword and braced his feet in case she thought to knock him on his arse again.

  He thought he heard her laughter in the midst of swiping and plunging at him. Her blade kept him on his toes, but he soon adjusted to her movements and found himself looking at her while he blocked.

  Tendrils of her hair had escaped her braid and blew across her face like war paint in the pale moonlight. She met his hungry gaze through the streaks and faltered in her defense. He used the opening to grab hold of her sword wrist, hold it up, and move in close for the kill.

  “I would hate to cut such a bonny throat,” he whispered with a warm breath as he held the edge of his blade to her neck.

  Her chest rose and fell hard against him. When she spoke, her breath fell upon the flat of his blade. “You beguiled me.”

  Moonlight glinted in her eyes, promising delights in which his soul could bask. He dipped his gaze to her mouth, dropped his sword, and dragged her closer.

  “And here I thought I was the one bein’ beguiled.”

  She let go of her sword and clung to him as his mouth descended on hers. She wanted this, he thought as his lips molded and teased. His blood seared through his veins, making him burn for her. He felt her heart thumping in unison with his and, though he rejoiced in their equal measure of delight, he feared she would be his undoing.

  He was losing fast with every stroke of her tongue against his, every touch of her fingers in his hair, down his back. Falling with every inhalation of breath, filled with sweet orchids and bluebells. She had managed to knock him off his feet yet again. Off his axis. Spiraling downward into the darkness. He held her closer as they kissed, not wanting to let her go.

  But too afraid to hold on.

  He broke their kiss and stepped back. “Lass, I—”

  “Do not say it, Cainnech.” She held out her fingers to his lips. “I will not be such a fool for you again!”

  She ran off, back toward the keep.

  Cain did not follow.

  Chapter Twenty

  Aleysia secured her saddle outside the stable as the sun came up. She looked over it at Sir Richard standing on the other side.

  “I do not understand why you do not simply send a missive to Miss Elizabeth,” her old friend said. “Why must you go to Newton on the Moor and why must I wait here?”

  “You know the nuns will not give Elizabeth my letter. I took her from them for five years.”

  “What makes you think they will let you speak to her?” Richard insisted.

  She shrugged. “Whether they want me to speak to her or not is of no concern to me. I will see her and I will speak to her. And you are staying behind to keep Father Timothy company. I thought you were friends.”

  “We are friends,” he argued, “but my duty is to see to you, not a priest.”

  “And you have done your duty well, dear friend. But I will be fine.” She secured her water pouch and her bow and some borrowed arrows to her saddle.

  “Why is the commander not going with you? Who will protect you if you are attacked on the road? You know how dangerous—”

  “I will protect myself, Richard,” she told him, growing frustrated with his fears.

  “Besides, have you not watched William practice with the others? What he knows, he has learned from the commander. I’m certain if we were attacked, he would do quite—”

  Her mouth snapped shut when she saw Cainnech approaching. Had he come to see her off?

  She grinded her teeth when Richard spotted the commander next and hurried toward him. “Speak to her!” the old knight insisted. “Why are you allowing this?”

  She moved to interject. She didn’t have to.

  “Her mind is her own, Richard,” Cainnech told him as they neared. “Or have ye not noticed that in all the years ye have known her?”

  And how was it that the commander had known her for a sennight and knew it already?

  Knowing he was correct, Richard gave in and stormed off.

  Alone with him, Aleysia watched him from over her horse’s back. He didn’t wear his plaid, but breeches of undyed wool cut snugly over his long, muscular legs, and a léine beneath his long, gray cloak. He looked tired but still wonderfully fit.

  She remembered being held in his arms the night before. What a fool she had been for him. She didn’t care if nothing in her entire life felt as good as kissing him; she would never let him do it again. She understood he’d had a difficult past and he hated the English because of it. She didn’t need reminding that they were enemies—especially after he kissed her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I am comin’ with ye,” he muttered. He moved past her without a word and disappeared into the stable.

  She smiled, turning to Rauf and William heading toward her.

  “Is he coming then?” William tossed her a knowing smile, but she had no idea what he thought he knew.

  “It seems so,” she shrugged, pretending not to care. She didn’t look at them again while they entered the stable.

  Though Cainnech was first into the stable, he was the last one out. By the time he finally sauntered out, leading his mount by the bridle, she tossed him an irritated glance. “I could have slept a little longer had I known you would take so long.”

  “Ye slept?” he asked, gaining his saddle.

  Two words. Two words were all it took to tempt her to forgive him anything, to wait for him forever.

  “Let us be off!” He called out, then slid his gaze to her and said more quietly, “Which way is clear of yer traps?” When she pointed east, he flicked his reins and rode away.

  She caught up with him and cantered her horse at his side. “What made you change your mind and come along?”

  “I havena come along, Aleysia,” he told her, sounding mildly annoyed. “I’m here to lead this wee adventure of yers. What that means fer ye is that ye will do what I tell ye.”

  She laughed softly, refusing to let him goad her. “Now, Commander, you know that I will not be ordered about, but I will consider any request you put to me. So
, are you going to tell me what made you change your mind about coming?”

  He looked as if he might be considering turning back. She held her ground, waiting. She didn’t think he would let her go to Newton on the Moor alone, now that he was here. She hoped she was correct. It was dangerous beyond the castle walls, especially for a woman traveling alone.

  “I was worried fer the nuns,” he drawled. “And if ye met any English soldiers along the way, I wanted to be here to kill them.”

  “Can you not control your lust for English blood? We are going to a holy place, Cainnech.”

  He set his bloodshot blue eyes on hers. “Ye sound like the priest.”

  “Good! At least one of you has sense in his head.”

  She thought she caught sight of his elusive smile as he flicked his reins and led his horse away at a steady trot.

  She watched him go. What kind of brute was he to always think about killing? One raised on the battlefield, surrounded by death, she reminded herself. One who had forgotten the faces of anyone he ever loved.

  She thought about riding to him but stopped herself. No more. She’d promised herself. She wouldn’t go back on it. She waited instead until William and Rauf caught up to her and rode with them the rest of the way.

  “Is he always so distant?” she asked them when they stopped just outside of Newton on the Moor for some bread and honey, and water for their horses from a nearby stream. The commander had claimed he wasn’t hungry and went to have a look around on foot.

  “Aye, fer as long as I have known him,” Rauf told her.

  “How long has that been?” she asked, taking a bite of her bread.

  “Four years. Most of us know little aboot him, fer he prefers to be alone when we are not fightin’.”

  Aleysia wanted to know what they knew about him, even if it wasn’t much. She hadn’t asked them before because Richard was always around. She hadn’t wanted him to know she was curious about what kind of man the commander was…when he wasn’t fighting.

  “Everyone seems to fear him. Has he given you a reason?”

  “We dinna fear him,” Rauf answered. “We respect him. He has brought us oot of battle safely more times than any of us can count.”

  “No one wants to fight with him on the practice field when he’s angry though,” William told her.

  “Or when he is not,” Rauf laughed. “We all know the tales though,” he said a moment later, sobering.

  “What tales?” Aleysia asked.

  “The tales of how when the commander was just a lad ten and five he massacred an entire squad of men.”

  “’Twas half that,” William corrected. He didn’t lower his gaze when they turned to stare at him, but continued. “I asked him and he said ’twas half the squad.”

  “Still,” Aleysia said in a quiet voice, “that is a lot of men to—”

  “They were the ones who killed his kin and held him captive,” William was quick to defend him. He knew Aleysia was aware of the commander’s past. They’d spoken of it briefly during Cainnech’s four-day disappearance. “They deserved what he did to them.”

  Aye, Aleysia thought, perhaps they did. But it hadn’t changed anything for him, had it? He still hated the English. He could never have his parents back, and his brothers were likely dead.

  He would always see her as his enemy.

  “He seems to like you though.”

  She turned to William sitting closest to her in the grass. “Why do you say that?”

  Her handsome young friend looked at her with his penetrating silvery eyes and gave her a skeptical look as if she shouldn’t need him to tell her.

  “He smiles when he’s with you. He does not smile often.”

  “I have seen him laugh a time or two when he was with ye,” Rauf agreed with a sly wink cast at her.

  She blushed and was about to rise to her feet, when the commander returned and gave them a disgusted look.

  “Would we like to reach Newton on the Moor today?” he asked in a wry tone.

  The men tossed away their bread and leaped to attention. Aleysia decided to move a little slower.

  “I would like to get there today,” she answered pleasantly and tossed him a playful smile. It was difficult to remain angry with him when, according to his men, she made him smile.

  He looked as if he were fighting one from forming right now. “Then mayhap,” he said, trying to sound angry, and failing, “ye can all quit flappin’ yer tongues aboot—”

  He ducked, but her honey-soaked hunk of bread hit him in the shoulder.

  She wasn’t sure what made her laugh harder, the bread sliding down his arm, leaving a sticky, glistening streak behind, or Rauf and William’s exclamations of disbelief.

  When a moment passed and Cainnech didn’t demand that they all pick up their bags and head back to Lismoor, her friends exchanged knowing smiles.

  “Are ye done then, lady?”

  Oh, he was angry, calling her lady instead of the more tender lass. She really should stop laughing but it felt too good. She hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time.

  Finally, he gave in and crooked a corner of his mouth up at her. His smile, subtle though it was, sobered her faster than his anger. He made her laugh and even though it was at his expense, he didn’t grow angry. He smiled.

  They stared at each other across the small clearing, their eyes saying what their mouths would not.

  He lifted his hand and swatted something away. When he waved his other hand in front of his face, Aleysia gasped and then covered her mouth. Bees! He took a moment from fighting them off to glare at her, and then unclasped his cloak and pulled off his léine.

  He wore nothing underneath but skin, muscle, and scars. Aleysia watched, captivated, as his dark hair fell over the broad flare of his shoulders. The filtered sunlight caressed his long, lean waist and fell across his washboard belly.

  She stopped paying attention to the others and remembered what it felt like to be pressed so snugly to him, to be caught up in his strength and the passion of his kiss.

  She fought the urge to take a step forward when he strode to the stream and bent to it. He dipped his léine into the water and looked over his shoulder at her, as if he simply couldn’t believe she’d thrown her bread at him.

  She adjusted her bodice—not realizing what she’d done until his gaze dipped to it—and then marched over to him. “You are fortunate ’twasn’t a dagger.”

  He slanted his mouth and turned back to his léine. “Not as fortunate as ye that I dinna toss ye into the hive.”

  She tried to think of something to say but her gaze was fastened on the play of muscles in his shoulders and arms as he scrubbed. She tore her eyes away and looked around the clearing. She found Will and Rauf standing by the horses. They still appeared stunned by her boldness and looked away quickly rather than meet her gaze.

  She glanced down at the commander again and then sat on her weak knees beside him. She wouldn’t let him frighten her off. “Your men are afraid of me.”

  He angled his head and gave her a pointed look. “They should be. And ye dinna have to sound so pleased aboot it.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. She knew the men weren’t afraid of her, but she couldn’t tell him what they truly thought. “I should help,” she said softly instead, and reached for the wet bundle in his hands.

  He covered her hands with his and when he looked at her, his gaze went altogether soft. “Ye are not a fool, lass.”

  She could have stared into his eyes until her last breath if he would always look at her the way he was looking at her now, as if he knew her and liked who she was and wanted to know more about her.

  He found her beautiful, more beautiful than the glade. He’d said so himself.

  He wrung out his léine and rose up above her. “But there can be no…” he continued, and then paused as if the words tasted foul coming from his mouth. “I must keep my head clear to my duty.”

  Her heart sank as she straightened. “
And what is your duty, Cainnech?”

  He stared into her eyes and clenched his jaw, as if he were trying to keep whatever he wanted to say inside.

  After a moment, he blinked away and glared at the men. “Time to go!”

  He was running again. Father Timothy had told her that the commander was fond of her. His men believed it, too. She thought of being with him at the glade and how serene he had been, how his mouth had worked slowly over her flesh, her lips, awakening parts of her she didn’t know existed. She hadn’t wanted to leave the glade—to return to who they were and what they were supposed to feel.

  She wanted to be angry with him for always running, always pulling away, and keeping a “clear head”, but she couldn’t. She was quite suddenly sad, in fact. He was so angry and filled with hatred for the English, and for those who swore fealty to King Edward, that he was blind to his own heart.

  What should she do about him? When he’d first come to Lismoor, she’d wanted him to leave. It was all she had wanted. Now, the thought of him going made her ill. What had changed? He’d kissed her and changed her dreams and desires.

  She watched him return to his horse and pull on his wet léine. It clung to him, outlining the muscles defining his chest. He shoved his cloak into his saddlebag and mounted in a single leap.

  She would have to think on it later. Elizabeth needed to come home.

  St. Peter’s Abbey was an old structure in the southwest end of the lovely village of Newton on the Moor. It wasn’t overly large, as far as abbeys went. Its high bell tower and two corner towers rose up over the quiet village.

  Aleysia recalled the last time she was here five years ago. Giles had been with her. They had come to take Elizabeth to Lismoor. The abbess had been angry and had argued with Giles. It seemed Elizabeth’s father had been paying handsomely to keep his daughter here while she was away from home and the abbess didn’t want to lose his donations. But Elizabeth had written to her betrothed telling him how much she hated being there, so they had come and brought her home. But it had been a harrowing visit.

  Aleysia stopped Cainnech and the others before they rode any closer. “We cannot simply knock on the abbey doors.”