The Highlander

by Terry Spear

  “Is he still trying to convince you to join his staff at Braybrooke Castle?”

  Niall watched her, waiting for her answer as he retook his seat.

  “I will not give up my croft to work for him at his keep,” she said. She loved her way of life here.

  “Your work there would be easier than maintaining this place of yours and if that old profligate king of ours keeps raising our taxes, forcing Laird Callahan to do the same, you will lose everything you own anyway.”

  Anora’s face felt hot. Niall’s expression showed he was highly amused. What if he was close to the king? Mayhap he was loyal to him, just as much as he was to his Highland laird. She had no idea.

  “I do not believe we should say anything about the king in front of my guest, Matthew.”

  “Why ever not?” Matthew asked as he glowered at Niall. “Do not tell me this relative of yours favors the king? Besides we have always had this discussion, and we both feel the same way.” Matthew gripped Anora’s shoulders and pulled her close, his blue eyes appearing as lust-filled as Niall's had earlier. Which shocked her. She'd never seen him look at her in that way. “Why will you not just say aye, and marry me? You would no longer have to pay rent and you could move in with my family and me.”

  Anora frowned at Matthew's familiarity with her and pulled free.

  “We have company, Matthew.” She returned to her stew and poked at it some more, unnerved by all the unwelcome attention, when in the past, she had always wondered why he hadn't shown her more affection.

  Especially since he had talked of marriage numerous times before. But it bothered her that he would do so in front of Niall, as if attempting to prove to her distant relation that Anora was Matthew's. And it further disturbed her that Niall would see it. Men and women did not shower each other with affections freely in front of others. What would Niall make of it? That she and Matthew behaved even more intimately when no one was about? Aye, that's exactly what he would think.

  “You didna tell me, my cousin,” Niall said, as he sat taller in his chair, eyeing her with disapproval, “that the lad had proposed to you.”

  She swore Niall said lad in a derogatory way that meant he was too young to think of marrying anyone. Niall's words were sure to irritate Matthew, even though he had enough of a scruffy blond beard that proved he was not some young lad.

  “So Anora has told you about me,” Matthew said, his face brightening, Niall's comment not having the effect on Matthew that she suspected Niall was trying for. “That is a good sign. I do believe I will have some of that stew of yours, Anora.”

  Niall furrowed his brow at her friend, looking disgruntled that he'd join them. She felt likewise, not wishing to keep up this ruse any longer. Though she truly thought Matthew would have been suspicious if she hadn't invited him to join them at the meal. Tension filled the air between Niall and Matthew, and she was definitely caught betwixt the two.

  Matthew sat at the table, leaned back in the chair, and said to Anora, “I brought you a slab of beef as well, but left it packed on my horse in case you were still not here. I was worried sick about you earlier today.”

  She felt badly about that. She knew he hadn't lied and it would be the only reason he had returned this eve to check on her.

  "I am sorry you were troubled about me." And if he'd known what had happened to her when he'd come by the first time, he would have had every right to be concerned for her welfare. But he could have been—and still could be—in danger, if Niall believed Matthew to be hazardous to his own welfare.

  Anora poured stew into a bowl for Matthew, while Niall took another scoop of his and said, “She makes the best pork stew I believe I have ever eaten.”

  She smiled a little at Niall. She was pleased he thought so.

  When she set the bowl before Matthew, he took hold of her wrist and raised her hand to his lips, then kissed it, his blond mustache tickling her skin. “I missed you, Anora.”

  Her mouth gaped and she quickly clamped it shut. He had never kissed her. Not once in all the years they had known each other. How could he do so in front of Niall? Her body burned with mortification.

  “Oh bother, Matthew, I only saw you last eve.” She pulled her hand free, then walked back over to the fire. Why was he acting so smitten with her all of a sudden?

  “Last night?” Niall said, sounding like he was her brother and ready to take them both to task.

  “Aye, I had supper with Matthew and his family,” she explained, not liking that she felt she had to, or that Niall was acting like he really was her relation.

  “Oh,” Niall said, then poked his spoon into his stew and scooped up a generous portion of thickened broth, herbs, and pork.

  Properly chaperoned, she wanted to tell the Highlander, and it was none of his business.

  “How long will you be here?” Matthew asked Niall, studying him.

  “Not long,” Anora said, ensuring she set the rules as she stirred her stew again. She couldn't sit with the men, fearing Matthew would read her expression or body language and know nothing was as it seemed. She felt she was better off keeping busy.

  “I have some business in the area. I dinna know how long that will take,” Niall said, countering her, then took another bite of his stew. “Come join us, Anora.”

  “Mayhap after the meal I could step outside with you, Anora, and watch you while you wash your cousin’s tunic. I thought I might have a word with you… alone,” Matthew said.

  She saw Niall narrow his eyes at her and shake his head subtly, telling her to say no.

  “Nay, Matthew,” Anora said, letting out her breath. “I believe Niall is afraid to be left alone while he is here.” She didn't know why she said it that way, because in truth it was much like poking the lion with her pitchfork. Mayhap in a devious way, she wanted to see his reaction.

  Niall smiled, the look pure evil like he intended to get her back for saying as much. “Rather, I have had this discussion earlier with my cousin that now that her guardian has died, she should be chaperoned when she is with a man.”

  “What about when she is with you?” Matthew said, then sipped his mead as he studied Niall, looking perturbed.

  Anora hadn't expected this turn of events. She hadn't believed Matthew would be a little envious. No one had ever really acted interested in her, and even Matthew had been more of a friend than anything else.

  “I am her relation,” Niall said evenly.

  “A distant cousin, she has said. Distant relations are known to have wed, and beyond that… well, suffice it to say, your being her relation does not stop you from taking advantage of her while she is here alone with you. Should you not stay at the inn in Banbh for the time-being?” Matthew asked, his question sounding more like a command.

  “My cousin insisted that I stay here with her as I have run out of funds for now,” Niall said, then offered him a smug smile.

  Anora could have told Matthew he wouldn't change the Highlander's mind. Even if he'd had the funds.

  “I would be willing to loan you the coin as I do not mind aiding a relative of Anora’s in circumstances such as these.”

  Anora stared at Matthew in disbelief. He was extremely careful with his money, and he would never hand it out to anyone, particularly a stranger. She was always surprised when he brought her cuts of meat—when he could have sold them for a profit.

  “I thank you, but I would miss her delightful cooking too much and certainly her company.” Niall winked at Anora, making her heart skip a little and her face warm a lot. He looked down at his empty bowl and said to her, “I do believe I am still hungry.”

  She glowered at him, took his bowl, filled it to the brim, and set it in front of him, none too gently. Did he think she was a serving wench in a tavern, only he had no intention of paying for his meal?

  Niall grinned at her. “Thank you, Anora.”

  Matthew said, “I would like more, too, Anora, if you could fetch me some more.”

  Anora shook her h
ead as she took Matthew’s bowl, then refilled it. She swore the two of them were competing with each other to prove how much they appreciated her cooking. Before, Matthew constantly compared her meals to his mother's, and they had never stood up to the scrutiny. After that, she'd quit inviting him to eat with her. John had loved her cooking, but she had thought mayhap he hadn't known any better since she'd learned how to cook from his sister, and so he'd been used to her meals.

  She couldn't help but be pleased Niall seemed to truly enjoy her cooking. She suspected if Matthew had said anything disparaging about the food, Niall would have told him what a fool he was. Actually, she almost wished Matthew would, so Niall could set him straight, and mayhap in the future, Matthew would watch what he said about her meals.

  After placing the bowl on the table before Matthew, she grabbed Niall’s torn tunic, careful not to allow Matthew to see the blood on it, but when she walked toward the door, Niall said darkly, “You must stay and visit with us until we are through, Anora. You have not even touched your own bowl of stew.”

  “But I was just going to soak these—”

  “Nay, we will suffer without your company,” Niall said sternly.

  Annoyed to high heaven, Anora set the garment aside, scowled at Niall, then returned to her chair.

  “I will have to learn to be more forthright with you, Anora. You usually are so headstrong,” Matthew said, chuckling.

  Niall offered a small, devious smile. “I can imagine so. It must be my commanding personality.”

  “Demanding, meddling, domineering, I can think of many names to call you, Niall,” Anora said, as she squirmed in her seat, not liking that the men were working together against her. As much as she wasn't hungry now, she began to eat her stew.

  Matthew studied Niall. “You do not look too much like someone who is related to Anora. You are much darker than she.”

  Niall took a deep breath and nodded. “Many of our relations have dark hair. Is that not so, Anora? She takes after the Danish side of the family.”

  Anora stood, making Niall touch the hilt of his sword. She masked the alarm that filled her heart. “I was just going to get the dessert.”

  “You are too nervous, my cousin. Sit, keep us company, and finish your stew.”

  Gnashing her teeth, she sat back in her chair.

  Matthew considered Anora next as she took another bite of her stew. “You say Niall is related to your mother, but I have heard it said that your mother was from France.”

  Chapter 6

  Learning of Anora's possible French connection, Niall stared at her in disbelief. She couldn't be the lass that James had sent him and Gunnolf to fetch and return home. Could she be? Her accent wasn't in the least bit French sounding. Her voice was a mixture of English and Lowland Scot's.

  “Well,” Anora said, as she ran her hand over the wooden slats of the simply-fashioned table, “I have heard it said my mother was French as well. Strange how rumors will surface that are completely unfounded.” Anora said no more concerning the matter.

  Matthew resumed eating his stew as if that was the end of the discussion.

  But Niall studied her posture—the way she fidgeted and the way she avoided looking at either of them. He had to learn more about her. James had no idea what the French lass looked like. And he certainly hadn't known exactly where she lived—just in this general area—so she might be a shepherdess—the shepherdess right under his nose. Mayhap.

  He wished Matthew would leave so he could question her further. Now.

  And then what? He hadn't thought that far into the future, unsure as to what they would find. A lass married or an unmarried maid living with a family. He hadn't thought he'd find her living alone, managing her own cottage and sheep. He knew she wouldn't want to leave it all behind, if she was the one he was sent to find.

  James had been adamant that her life would soon be in danger. And as soon as they found her they needed to move her at once to Craigly Castle. James had been afraid to send any more men than Gunnolf and Niall, concerned that if there were too many of them, and the wrong people learned they were searching for her, she and they would be at further risk. Which happened anyway when Cian and his men attacked them.

  When Anora finished her meal, Niall said, “Why do we no' have the dessert, then Matthew can leave before 'tis too late." He knew he couldn't tell Matthew to decline eating the sweet berry mixture and leave at once without both Matthew and Anora becoming suspicious, as much as Niall wanted to order him to do so.

  "Nay, I will help Anora wash the dishes from supper," Matthew said, smiling at Anora, acting as though Niall had no say in anything.

  Niall cast him a caustic glare that if he'd seen it, the man would surely have taken heed. Anora did see Niall's reaction, knew he was angered beyond reason, and quickly reused the bowls to fetch the berry dessert for them before Niall said something further.

  "You have no need to stay," Niall said again. "I will help Anora wash up after the final course."

  “Nay, I am happy to help Anora clean up. Hmm,” Matthew said, as he inhaled the intoxicating aroma of the berry-honey mixture. "I do not believe I have ever been offered such a delightful dish as this before, Anora. Having a relation visit improves the menu.”

  Now she gave Matthew a highly irritated look.

  Before Matthew could ask for a second helping of the dessert, Niall finished the last of his in a rush and rose from his chair. Matthew didn't have time to react before Niall took hold of his bowl—one last uneaten bite of the tasty confection sitting in the middle of it—and stacked them together.

  Anora's lips parted in surprise.

  "Now that we are done, we can wash up and retire for the night. Anora and I have a long day ahead of us—as do you—and we need to get our rest before 'tis too much later. Anora?" Niall said, waiting for her to agree, his look as stern as he ever used when he wanted someone to do his bidding, and he knew the person would be reluctant to submit.

  She gave Niall a scowly look, then grabbed his bloodied, torn tunic, hiding the blood stains from Matthew's view. "Niall's right," she finally said, though it looked like it was killing her to say so. "He is leaving early in the morn and needs to get his rest."

  Touché, little one, Niall thought, giving her a small smile, but he wasn't about to do as she wished.

  Matthew grabbed the bucket of water heating over the fire and carried it outside. "Mayhap tomorrow I can return after my work is done," he said to Anora, as she and Niall headed outside with him.

  "Anora was mistaken in saying I was leaving so soon. We havena seen each other in so long, we need some time together, alone, visiting, for old time's sake," Niall said, quickly washing the bowls in the heated bucket of water. "You will be able to see her any time after I leave." Unless, she was his French miss and then it would be another story.

  His brow furrowed disagreeably, Matthew eyed the two of them standing so close together as she took the washed bowls and dried them, and he seemed to draw other conclusions.

  "All… right," Matthew said to Anora as she finished drying the bowls, "Let me have them and I will take those inside for you."

  Had he wanted to prove he could help with the bowls also? Niall nearly smiled. Matthew gave him a glower and headed inside.

  Anora washed out Niall's bloodied tunic, scrubbing, beating it, acting as though she would have liked to have beaten the wearer of the tunic instead.

  “Why did you no' tell me your mother was from France? You were trying to give me away,” Niall said, glaring at Anora. Though the matter of her being French was what interested him the most. He would discuss it with her once Matthew had left the area, and they were settled down for the night.

  “I told you that the notion that you were my distant relation would be hard for any to believe. Besides, like I said, there is no proof my mother was from France.”

  “Why did you no' say that I was related to your father instead?”

  “He was from France as well—so
the tale goes. Another unfounded rumor.”

  “The sheepherder?” Niall was truly suspicious of her birth place.

  Anora smiled. “I told you that was another story. Mayhap I can tell you that tale another time, however.”

  The English were not on the best of terms with the Franks and if they'd learned she was living here, would they think to take her hostage if she was nobility?

  Matthew’s boots tromped across the stone floor toward the door, catching their attention.

  Niall asked her, “Do you love him?”

  If she did, that would further complicate issues. Niall would have to convince the butcher's son to go with them.

  “Shh, he is coming,” she said.

  Niall shook his head. “Then you dinna love him.”

  He was glad to hear it. If she was the woman he sought, he was taking her to Craigly Castle no matter what objections she might raise. The problem was he had to find Gunnolf, and ensure she was the right woman. He couldn't afford to take her to Craigly and then learn that the woman James sent him for was still here in the vicinity—and in possible danger. Not to mention, he had another slight difficulty with having lost his horse. And, God's knees, his wounds precluded a rigorous journey for at least another day or more.

  Anora lifted the bucket to obtain water from the well. Niall stepped forward to do the task, but Anora shook her head. “You could pull your stitches loose.”

  Matthew exited the cottage and saw Anora lifting the heavy bucket from the well. He gave Niall a blistering look and then hurried to help her, which annoyed the hell out of Niall. He would have done the task if he hadn't been worried he'd never heal in time to leave here soon.

  “You should have waited for me to get the water for you, Anora,” Matthew said.

  “You know I must do this several times a day without your assistance, and poor Niall has hurt his back or he would have helped me with the water.”

  “Oh,” Matthew said, looking askance at Niall, and he didn't appear to believe Anora. “I did not know.”