Winning the Highlander's Heart

by Terry Spear

  Satisfied the fire would last a while, he laid out their clothes to dry the best he could, and climbed under the blankets, pulling her into his arms.

  He rubbed her back, trying to get her warmed, though his hands were as cold as her silky skin. “Anice, talk to me,” he whispered against her cheek.

  She murmured something inaudible.

  “Anice.” He lay her on her back and covered her with his body. “Do not leave me now, lass. I cannot pursue you if you are gone.” Though he said it half in jest to force any reaction, he couldn’t help feeling he was losing the lass. No matter what, he couldn’t. Not the way he had felt about her from the moment she slid down the rope from the tower keep at Arundel to now. She was his to protect always.

  She mumbled incoherently again.

  “Speak to me, lass.” He nuzzled his face against hers, fighting the reaction his body had as he lay on top of her. ‘Twas not chivalrous. Yet, how could he not feel something for her, as wonderful as she felt beneath him? Her lack of response sent another trickle of dread down his spine.

  For what seemed an eternity, he held her close, rubbing her arms to warm her and speaking to her with encouraging words. Her shivers lessened, and her temperature seemed to rise, but she was still incoherent whenever muffled words escaped her lips. Though he couldn’t help but notice her soft body beneath his, nor the curve of her breasts against his chest, nor the way his staff hardened against her stomach with an ache he couldn’t fulfill, he attempted to keep his mind on ensuring she lived. ‘Twas all that mattered for now.

  He realized he’d truly fallen for the lass, from the moment he’d first seen her at Arundel. No matter the wager he lost, his brothers were right, he wanted her for his own. Not because she had property and money, but because she was Anice, a woman who inspired, amused, and pleased him and when he least expected it, tantalized him with her quick-witted, tongue-lashing swordplay. Yet, he still didn’t know what had become of her fourth betrothed husband. Was the lass truly cursed?

  When the fire grew low, he left the warmth of their makeshift bed and threw some more timber on the hearth.

  Anice stirred and mumbled some more nonsensical words.

  Her words tugged at his heart. He had to ensure she made it through this. He quickly returned to the bed, and she moaned when he lifted the blanket to climb back in with her. “Anice, lass, you have to be all right. Kemp counts on you to make him a groom and a Highland warrior. And you have me who wants to wive ye. No one else but ye. Please believe me.”

  The cold had taken its toll on him, too. Exhausted, he slept with his arms wrapped securely around her, her back fitting against his chest as she drew her legs up, sitting against his thighs while he attempted to keep her as warm as physically possible.

  Later, men’s voices stirred him from his ragged sleep. He lay muddle-headed trying to discern what he’d heard. Was it his brothers? They spoke again. He quickly sat up. ‘Twas not his brothers’ voices.

  Chapter Nine

  Malcolm covered Anice’s face with the blanket, then grabbed his damp trewes and shoved them on when four men stepped out of the byre into the house.

  They appeared to be knights, bearded, wet, and bedraggled. The situation couldn’t be worse. “How now,” Malcolm said in greeting, but edged in the direction of his sword.

  “We beg your charity, good man,” a black-haired man said, his voice dark, his blue eyes icy. He pulled off his rain-soaked cloak, handed it to a stockier man, then glanced at the body buried beneath the blanket.

  “Aye, there is a fire here to warm ye.” Malcolm motioned to the hearth, trying to be cordial, though he felt less than charitable if these were some of the baron’s men.

  The others began to pull off their wet clothes, hanging them around the room to dry.

  The first said, “If those are your horses in the byre, methinks you are not the owner of this farm.”

  “Aye, the owner was not here when my wife and I came upon the place in the storm.”

  “Wife?” The man’s thin lips turned up slightly, but his eyes remained hard. He cast another glance at Anice. “I am Baron Harold de Fountenot. You must be a knight to own such a fine horse, and the lady a daughter of a knight, perchance?”

  Malcolm’s heartbeat pounded fiercely to learn this was the baron who wished to marry Anice. “Aye, Laird MacNeill.” But he couldn’t give away Anices’s identity. If they knew who she was, they’d kill him.

  “We will take the place by the hearth,” the baron said, stripping out of his clothes. The baron was shaking hard. Too bad he wouldn’t die from a chill. Mayhap he still would.

  “My wife is sick from the chill she had taken.”

  The baron’s mouth turned up. “Then I will warm her.”

  Malcolm grabbed his claymore. He would kill all of them if any laid a hand on Anice. The men were half naked and trembling from the cold so hard, he assumed he could easily kill all three. A part of him wanted to, to protect Anice from this murderer. But how would he explain his actions to the king if he should act on his feelings? That he had killed the king’s first choice of a husband for Anice because the baron had found them bedded together naked?

  His dark beard dripping of water, and his blue eyes like ice, hard and chilly, the baron motioned to Anice. “Move her then, but leave the blankets and bedding.”

  Malcolm curbed the anger sizzling in his blood. Best to remain calm and in charge of his senses. “Nay, laird, the lady stays where she is. If you want to stand, sit, or lie by the fire, so be it. But the lady moves not a hair.”

  “I can be a hard man when I do not get what I want.”

  Malcolm readied his sword, determined to show how hard he could be in return. He would not move Anice from the fire for anybody. Even the king. If he moved her to another part of the room where it was colder, without a blanket and the fire to warm her, she’d surely die. Besides, he would not expose Anices’s naked beauty to this man and his men. “Aye, nay doubt. But I will not lose my wife to the sickness because of you or anyone else. Some rags are in that chest. Mayhap you can use them to dry off a wee bit.”

  One of the men retrieved the cloths. If the men slept, Malcolm would have to sneak Anice out, but he worried taking her into the bad weather could only harm her further. They’d be better off killing Fontenot and his men and waiting out the storm.

  Two of the men returned to the byre and dragged in more straw for additional bedding.

  The men finished making their beds, then huddled on the straw next to the fire and Anice, which did not please Malcolm. Yet, he could do nothing about it, or begin the battle.

  The baron waved at Anice. “Join your wife. Keep her warm. We will not begrudge you too much.”

  Keeping Anice warm with his body heat was preferable to leaving her to sleep on her own, but watching their backs was his primary concern at the moment. Having to make that choice though, soured him toward the baron even further. “I will keep the fire going.”

  “Good fellow,” the baron said, then lay down on the straw.

  Good fellow, my arse. Malcolm knew the baron figured he didn’t trust him and his men. Malcolm tested Anice’s and his clothes and was glad to find her shift and hose dry. But her woolen bliaut and monk’s robe were still damp, as were their leather shoes.

  Outside, the rain hadn’t let up. He couldn’t take Anice out in this weather again, without losing her for certain. The only other thing he could think of doing was slaying the baron and his knights, not an honorable thing to do either.

  He moved in closer to the fire to dry his trewes and plotted his next move.

  * * *

  Fearful the baron would discover who she was, Anice lay deathly quiet. The constant shivering had lessened, and she clenched her teeth to stop their clattering, but her whole body ached from the cold and shivering and riding. How could their luck grow any worse?

  Where was Malcolm? She’d heard him speak with Fontenot, then everything grew quiet. She feared moving from her b
lanket, lest the men were still awake. All she could think of was getting dressed and fleeing from the croft before she and Malcolm were caught. What was he doing? Her heart beat too fast, but at least she’d warmed up and her fingers and toes were no longer so stiff.

  When some of the men began to snore, she raised the blanket slightly. A hand covered her mouth. Relief flooded through her to see Malcolm. He whispered, “We have to leave.”

  She nodded, knowing at least one of the bodies laying close to her was the man the king wished her to marry. He’d have wanted Malcolm dead anyway, but if he’d found she was naked with the Highlander, the baron would feel justified. She shuddered. Malcolm was her Highland hero, and she wished no harm to ever come to him.

  Malcolm helped her up while she held the blankets around her tightly. She glanced in the men’s direction, worried they may wake, and curious as to what the baron looked like, but the sight of their naked bodies shocked her, and she gasped. She hadn’t realized...

  Malcolm quickly pulled her toward the byre with her clothes draped over his arm. When they entered the icy room, he whispered, “I am sorry you have to dress out here. I am afraid they may see you and—”

  Beginning to chill, she lifted her arms so he could pull her shift over her, then she dropped the blankets. He helped her on with the rest of the garments. “Sit, lass, and I will help you with your hose and shoes.”

  Once she was dressed, she felt much warmer, relieved their clothes had dried.

  He seated her on her horse. “The rain has stopped. We shall take the baron’s horses for a wee bit more exercise.”

  “Did you feed and water ours already?”

  “Aye. Removed their saddles and brushed them down later in the night, then readied them for our journey again early this morn.”

  He was truly worthy of being her husband. With a hurry to their efforts, they headed out of the byre, trailing the baron’s horses behind them.

  When they had ridden some distance from the croft, Anice took a deep breath. “You told the baron we were married.”

  “Aye, I had to, lass. You and I were caught naked together, alone in the house. We had a verra good reason for it, but I doubt the baron would appreciate I had to keep you warm so you would live. He will not think I did not have my way with ye, as bonny as you are.”

  “We slept together? Without...without...” She knew he’d removed her clothes. She’d been naked when she woke, for heaven’s sakes. But she didn’t want to think about what Malcolm had seen or what he’d thought. Or...or that he’d touched her with his naked body. She couldn’t fathom he’d lain with her. Why couldn’t she remember any of it?

  “We were soaking wet, lass. We had to get dry and warmed up quickly.”

  “Did we...we—”

  “We did not make love, if that’s what ails ye.”

  “I do not remember.” She looked at him, hoping he didn’t recall what he’d seen either.

  “’Twas the cold. If you get too cold, you go to sleep and never wake. I worried you were dying, Anice. You spoke incoherently. You had the talk of death.”

  “What about ye? Do you remember?”

  His lips rose slightly. “I only worried about your health, lass. But, aye, I was more fully aware of what was going on than ye.”

  She shuddered, not from the biting cold, but from the worry he’d seen her naked. More than that, he’d touched her with his own unclothed body. Och.

  “What are we to do, Malcolm? When the baron realizes you serve as my steward and you have no wife and we were traveling alone together—”

  “He did not see ye.”

  Mayhap that was the best solution after all. If she pretended to be his wife, the baron would not find Lady Anice at Brecken. “I will be your wife.”

  Malcolm’s mouth dropped slightly. “But the king has not even approved my courting you yet.”

  She only meant to pretend for heaven’s sakes. Did he think she was going to force him to marry her for compromising her like he did, though through no fault of his own? She frowned at him. “Nay, I will be your wife and you will be Brecken Castle’s steward.”

  He stared at her. “You mean you would pretend not to be Lady Anice?”

  Aye, do not worry. I wouldna force you to marry me. She couched the growing annoyance that festered in her stomach. “Aye. The baron can come to wed me, but the lady will never arrive. When he gets tired of waiting, he will leave. In the meantime, we can find evidence he is the one who was behind my uncle’s and Laird Thompson’s death. It will allow the king time to consent to your pursuing me.”

  “But your people—”

  “If we arrive before the baron and his men do, my people will go along with it. All they have to know is that the baron most likely killed my uncle. He was well-liked by my people.”

  “And our sleeping arrangements?”

  Now he was interested in being her husband? All because he might get to lay with her again? “I will be one of Lady Anice’s ladies-in-waiting, and I will sleep in her chambers.”

  “But I will have to spend time with my wife.”

  “We will spend plenty of time together. I am involved in everything that goes on in the management of my lands.”

  “That is not what I mean.”

  She raised a brow. “Aye, I know what you mean. I am ignoring that meaning.”

  He chuckled. “I thought you meant you wished me to marry you for having slept with you.”

  Aye, that’s what she thought. He feared she intended to force him to marry her. She shook her head in annoyance. “There would go your chance at having an English bride.”

  “I would not need an Englishwoman, Anice, if I had ye.”

  She ran her reins through her fingers, wanting to change the subject. She didn’t trust Malcolm wanted her for herself, and not from some sense of duty, or as a poor substitute when he couldn’t have an English lady for his wife. “What of your brothers and the boy?”

  “They will have searched for a dwelling to get out of the weather. The first village we come to we will begin our search.” He released the baron’s horses.

  “He will want your head for stealing his horses.”

  “The byre door blew open in the violent storm. Too bad his horses got away.”

  When they reached the next village, they first visited an inn and proceeded to tether their horses out front. “They will not serve a woman inside, so you will have to remain hidden beneath your hood, Anice.”

  “You do not want anyone to see your blushing bride.”

  He smiled at her, and as soon as he did, the heat rose from her toes to the top of her head. Forgetting he’d lain with her naked wasn’t going to be easy.

  “You have probably been with many a woman, but I have never been with a man before.” She furrowed her brow.

  He donned his most serious face, which wasn’t genuine in the least. “You are troubled by our having been together in the raw, but you have naught to worry about, lass.”

  She wanted to know how she compared to other women, but he wasn’t cooperating. She ran her fingers over her horse’s mane. “You are used to seeing a woman without...without...” She pursed her lips. “‘Tis nay big deal to ye. One is much the same as another and...well, you know what I mean.”

  He rubbed his whiskered chin. “I think I know your meaning. You wonder how you compare with the others, do ye?”

  * * *

  Anice was dying to know how Malcolm compared her to other women he’d lain with, but when he came to the point, it sounded so coarse. “Nay, you are not getting my meaning.”

  He chuckled softly under his breath, then drew close and took her hands. His touch was warm and gentle, and she wished she remembered feeling his body resting with hers. “I worried you were going to die on me, Anice. So I tried to keep my mind on warming you before you left me for good. But I cannot deny I saw the most beautiful woman in the firelight’s soft glow, nor that I did not desire that same woman who lay so cold beneath me. But
as a gentleman, I put aside such notions and concentrated on keeping you alive.”

  She smiled, glad he had been so heroic, but desired her. “I would thank you for saving me, but it would be queer if two brothers of the cloth kissed outside of a tavern.”

  He smiled broadly. “Aye, let us see if we can find my brothers and the wee lad.”

  He opened the door to the tavern, and they were greeted by stares from eight men at two tables. In a corner of the room, two monks and a boy sat supping porridge.

  Elated to see them, she said, “Oh, Malcolm—”

  “Brother John, keep your voice low.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. They moved to the table where his brothers sat, giving the other tables a wide berth.

  Kemp saw them first and dashed to greet them. He grabbed Anice’s hand and pulled her with him, warming her heart. Dougald tugged another two chairs to their table.

  “Thank God, you are all right,” Dougald said as Angus nodded in greeting, his face filled with relief.

  “Did you stay here the night during the storm?” Malcolm asked.

  Dougald motioned for a wench to serve them. “Aye. Half dead and half frozen, but we thawed out during the night. And ye?”

  A blush heated Anice’s cheeks again.

  “We found a farmhouse,” Malcolm said.

  His brothers looked from her to him as if they thought something more had gone on.

  A buxom wench leaned over the table to show off ample cleavage. “What will it be?”

  “Porridge, same as the others are having and mead,” Malcolm ordered.

  “We must have missed the farmhouse. I lost the whole lot of ye, then finally found the village. An hour later, Angus and the boy dragged in.” Dougald tussled Kemp’s hair. “He has wanted to search for you since he woke to save his lady, who is going to make him a Highland warrior. I’m thinking he’s forgotten about the tending to your horses part of the bargain.”

  She smiled at Kemp, tickled at his enthusiasm and good heartedness. “You will make a fine groom and a great warrior, lad.”