Promise of a Highlander

by Baker, Katy

  "Ross MacAuley, as I live and breathe," one of them said in a low, husky voice. "How long has it been since we were last acquainted?" She put a faint emphasis on the last word.

  Ross glanced up from his tankard. "Morag," he grunted. "What do ye want?”

  The woman smiled and gave a little mock curtsey. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?" She laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it with familiarity. "It's good to see ye again, Ross. What say we go somewhere and relive old times?" She leaned so low that Lia thought she might spill out the front of her dress.

  Ross sat back in his chair. "I dinna think so, Morag. Some things are better left in the past, dinna ye reckon?"

  Morag arched an eyebrow and looked at her friend, a pretty brunette wearing a clinging dress that accentuated all her curves. "Would ye listen to that, Rowan? Didnae I tell ye he likes to play coy?" She turned her attention back to Ross. "I've heard it said that ye prefer them exotic now. That ye rode in with some foreign beauty." She reached up and lazily curled a lock of Ross's hair around her finger. "I can be exotic if ye want me to be."

  Ross grabbed Morag's hand and yanked it away. "I said no," he growled. "I willnae repeat myself."

  A look of pure fury swept across Morag's face. Turning to her companion, she sneered, "Come, let's find us a real man." They began to walk off but Morag paused and said over her shoulder. "Ye were never as good between the sheets as Ramsay. He was better at everything, wasnae he?"

  Ross tensed, his fingers tightening around his tankard but he said not a word. Satisfied she'd got the reaction she wanted, Morag flounced off, transferring her attentions to a group of men by the bar.

  Lia hesitated, unsure whether she should approach him or go back up to her room. It didn’t look like he wanted company.

  As if sensing her presence, Ross suddenly glanced over his shoulder and spotted her stood by the stairs. His gaze swept over her from head to foot and his eyes widened momentarily. The next instant his scowl was back, and he gestured irritably for her to join him.

  Lia crossed the common room and slid onto the bench opposite him.

  "Ye took yer time," he said by way of greeting.

  Lia smiled sweetly. "It's nice to see you too, Ross."

  He didn't respond to her sarcasm. Instead he waved over the innkeeper and ordered them some supper. One of the serving girls brought over two plates of roast beef and vegetables in gravy and a tankard of ale for Lia. She desperately wanted to ask Ross about Morag and what the reference to this Ramsay had meant but all thoughts were pushed to one side by the smell of the food. And besides, from the scowl on his face and the stiff set of his shoulders, it was obvious Ross was in no mood for talking.

  Lia busied herself with her meal. She was ravenous and shoveled food into her mouth in what she was sure was a wholly un-ladylike fashion. It was delicious. The beef was so tender it came apart on her tongue. And the vegetables! Cooked just right, crispy on the outside, soft in the middle. Yes, food in this time was definitely better than Ross's travel rations.

  She ate without noticing anything else, mopping up the last of the gravy with a bannock and then looking at her empty plate and wishing for more. It was only then she realized that Ross was watching her with a look of amusement on his face.

  "What?" she asked defensively.

  "Nothing," he replied. "It's just that I've never seen a woman inhale her food before."

  There was silence for a moment and then Lia burst out laughing. "Oh God, I wasn't that bad, was I?"

  “Dinna worry, lass. Everyone will just think it’s another of yer strange Italian quirks. Aye, Mistress Martha told me about yer wish to dress like a man and what ye told her about where ye come from. That woman gossips more than the most swift-tongued fishwife. It will be all over town by morning.”

  Lia sighed. So much for being circumspect. “Sorry. I said the first thing that came into my head.”

  “Dinna fash,” he replied. “In fact, yer little ruse might work to our advantage. Posing as an eccentric Italian noblewoman might just help explain yer odd accent and behavior.”

  “Odd accent and behavior?” she demanded indignantly. “Who are you calling odd?” But she smiled to take the sting out of her words. “I prefer the term ‘independent minded.’”

  Was she imagining it or did a ghost of a smile play across his lips? He glanced at her and light from the many candles was reflected in his eyes, highlighting their colour and making them seem to glow like amber coals.

  Flustered, she cleared her throat and leaned back, searching for something to say. “Who were those women?” she blurted.

  It was the wrong thing to mention. His expression darkened, his eyes growing hard. He glanced to where the women in question were draped over two men at the bar, laughing raucously.

  “People I used to know.” He stood abruptly. “I must check on Traveler.”

  Before she could say another word, he turned and strode out the back door of the inn. Lia sighed. What had she said now? Irritated with herself—and with him—she pulled over Ross’s plate and began polishing off the food he’d left. She was sure she’d never been quite this hungry in her life. Conversation swirled around her whilst she ate.

  “....nay chance. Are ye trying to rob me? I’ll take nay less than we agreed...”

  “....young Bess is near her time now. The midwife reckons she’s carrying twins! Twins! Can ye believe it?...”

  “...bad weather is on the way, ye mark my words. I can feel it in my bones...”

  “...Martha reckons she’s Italian. Speaks our tongue well though. Mayhap she’d like some company, eh?”

  “Dinna be daft, Willie. Did ye not hear who she rode in with? Ross MacAuley’s escorting her and he’ll likely kill ye if ye do aught he doesnae like.”

  Lia turned to see two men sitting at a corner table, watching her. When they saw her looking they quickly turned back to their ale. It seemed that Ross was right: people were gossiping about her already. It wasn’t a feeling she liked, and she suddenly wished Ross would hurry up and return from the stable.

  She pondered the men’s words. It was obvious they knew Ross and were afraid of him. He’ll likely kill ye if ye do aught he doesnae like. Sure, he could be surly and taciturn but killing someone?

  The main door opened, and a man strode in. Lia blinked as she recognized him. It was Robert MacCollum, the man from the stable yard earlier, the one who’d taken her for a whore. The one Ross had attacked. He’ll likely kill ye if ye do aught he doesnae like. The man had recognized Ross. So too had the woman, Morag, a woman whom Lia was pretty sure was a prostitute. Everyone seemed to know more about Ross than she did.

  That wasn’t a feeling she liked either. What kind of man had she put her trust in?

  Robert MacCollum took a seat near the bar and called for ale. On impulse Lia pushed back her chair and approached him. He glanced up and his eyes widened in recognition. He held up his hands.

  “Look,” he said, glancing around for Ross. “I dinna want any more trouble. I apologized didnae I?”

  “You did,” she agreed. “And I don’t want any trouble either. I just want to talk to you. May I sit?”

  His eyes narrowed in suspicion but, seeing she was alone, he waved at the seat next to his. Lia slid onto it.

  “I was just wondering how you know Ross, that’s all.”

  He was younger than she’d first thought, perhaps around her own age and good looking in a rakish sort of way. His clothes looked expensive, if a little shabby, and his glassy gaze suggested he was fond of the drink.

  “They say ye are an Italian noblewoman,” he replied. “From Venice. Is that true?”

  “Um...yes. What of it?”

  “I’ve visited Venice with my lord father. Ye have a strange accent. From which part do ye hail?”

  Lia’s heart began to pound. She thought quickly. “I was born in Venice but my family moved to Sienna when I was young. We have estates there.” She hoped her lie sounded convincing
.

  He frowned for a moment and then nodded. “Ye are a long way from home, my lady. Mayhap ye should choose yer traveling companions a little more carefully.”

  One of the serving women brought over a jug of ale and a pottery beaker which she placed on the table. Robert grabbed the jug, poured himself a cup, and then drank it greedily, tipping his head back until it was drained.

  “Earlier, in the yard, it seemed like you know Ross pretty well,” Lia prompted.

  He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before pouring himself another drink. “Knew Ross pretty well,” he corrected, gesturing with the cup. “Back before he got a stick up his arse, he used to come up here on trading missions for his father. There was a time when he knew how to have a good time. When he liked drinking and whoring and enjoying himself. After what happened to his brother—well, he became a right pain in the arse, I can tell ye. Ask anyone around here. They’ll tell ye the same.”

  His brother? Ross had told her he had no siblings.

  “What happened to his brother?” she asked.

  Robert scowled at her. “Ye’ll have to ask him that. I need to piss.” He heaved himself to his feet and staggered off, taking the jug of ale with him.

  Lia glanced at the table she’d shared with Ross. He still hadn’t returned. Glancing around, she saw people peering at her and then quickly looking away. The looks were more curious than hostile but even so, after her experience with the villagers, the attention made her wholly uncomfortable.

  She climbed to her feet and wove through the tables to the back door which stood propped open to let in some air. Outside in the stable yard she paused for a minute to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness and take a few breaths of the cold night air. After the stuffiness of the common room, the clean air was a balm. The courtyard was deserted but a faint light glowed in the stable block.

  She crossed the courtyard and cautiously approached the stable door. The scent of hay and horses assailed her as she stepped inside and in the light coming from a dim lamp set on a shelf, she saw that four horses occupied stalls, all with heads hanging as they drowsed.

  She made her way down the aisle between the stalls, stepping noiselessly so as not to disturb the animals. She spotted Traveler in a stall right at the far end, a good distance from the other horses. His bad temper, it seemed, extended to others of his own kind as well as Lia.

  Ross was seated cross-legged on the floor in front of Traveler’s stall. Next to him lay his sword and whetstone but he wasn’t looking at them. Instead he was staring at something lying in his palm, seemingly lost in thought. The object was small and round, glinting gold in the lamplight and had a thong threaded through it. It took a moment for Lia to realize it was a man’s signet ring. Ross turned it round and round in his palm, oblivious to all else.

  Lia cleared her throat.

  Ross jumped up, grabbing his sword, his eyes blazing.

  Lia shrank back with a cry.

  He blinked and something else washed through his eyes. Shame? He sheathed his sword.

  “My...my apologies,” he muttered. “Ye startled me.”

  Lia pressed a hand to her chest where her heart was beating rapidly. “I startled you?”

  “I said I was sorry,” he snapped. “Ye shouldnae have snuck up on me.”

  “I didn’t mean to. You were gone a long time.”

  “Was I?” he sounded surprised. “I didnae realize. I didnae mean to leave ye alone for so long. I was...thinking.”

  In the gloom of the stable he seemed like a darker shadow, part of the night itself. Only glints of copper broke through from where the lamplight gleamed on his hair. The rest of his face was cast into shadow but she could feel his gaze on her.

  Drinking, whoring, enjoying himself. Robert’s words came back to her. He couldn’t have been talking about Ross, surely? This serious, taciturn man? But then, he had been accosted by a prostitute who clearly knew him. Could Robert be right? But the image Robert painted didn’t fit the image of the man standing in front of her now. The man who’d ridden to her aid against those villagers without thought to the cost for himself. The man who so rarely smiled and whose gaze seemed always troubled.

  Who was Ross MacAuley?

  “Why have ye come here, lass?” he asked, softly.

  She opened her mouth and shut it again. It was a good question. She wasn’t sure of the answer herself.

  “I...um...” she began, trying to think of something to say. It was damnably hard to think straight with him watching her like that. She looked around the stable. “You can’t sleep here,” she blurted.

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “It’s...well...it’s a stable.”

  He laughed softly. “Lass, I’ve slept in far worse.”

  “You’ve already done more for me than I have any right to ask. I’ll be damned if you sleep in a stable whilst I have a nice room and a comfy bed.” She pulled up the sleeve of her tunic and yanked off her bracelet. It was the only piece of jewelery she wore and was only made of silver plating but she hoped it would bring enough to get him a room for the night after he’d spent so much of his money on her room and clothes. She held it out. “Here.”

  He gazed at her for a long moment. There was no sound other than Traveler’s soft breathing. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  He took a step forward until he was standing fully in the lamp light. A good head taller than Lia, she found herself craning her head back to look up at him. Between them, the bracelet glinted on her outstretched palm. He gently reached out and curled her fingers closed around it. It was the lightest of touches but Lia’s heart skipped a little.

  “I canna take that.”

  He watched her with his eyes full of something she couldn’t quite name. She took a step back, suddenly flustered.

  “All right. Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll sleep in the stable and you take the room. Or maybe we could share. The room is big enough for two. If I put some pillows by the fire, you can sleep on that—” She trailed off as she realized he was laughing softly. “What?”

  “Spoken like a true twenty-first century lass.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The two of us sharing a room is a terrible idea. We aren’t married. Do ye want people to think that Robert was right? That ye are my whore?”

  Lia opened her mouth then snapped it closed again. “I...um...would they think that?”

  “They would. And it would be another piece of gossip to add to what is already swirling around the town about an eccentric Italian noblewoman who likes to dress as a man.”

  Lia’s stomach dropped. Oh. Of course.

  “Come,” Ross said. “I will escort ye back to yer room like a good serving man should.”

  She nodded and together they walked out of the stable and across the courtyard. Lia glanced at Ross, longing to ask about what Robert had said—both about Ross having a brother and his reputation as a womanizer, but his stern expression made her keep silent.

  “This is where I leave ye,” Ross said when they reached her door. “Lock yer door tonight. Mistress Martha keeps a good house but there are few who might let the drink override their good sense.”

  Lia nodded.

  He inclined his head. “Good night, my lady.”

  “Good night.”

  He turned and walked away down the corridor. Only when he was out of sight did she go inside and lock the door behind her.

  As she lay down on the soft bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin, guilt nagged at her at the thought of Ross sleeping alone in the cold, drafty barn. Images of the aloof, red-headed Scotsman floated around in her head until she fell asleep.

  Chapter 7

  Lia slept fitfully, despite the comfy bed and thick covers. She started awake at the slightest noise and in this old wooden building there were plenty of those: from squeaky floorboards to the wind rattling the window panes, to the groan of the building settling at night. Each time she jerked upri
ght in bed, staring out into the darkness of her room.

  Despite the lock on the door she felt vulnerable. Without Ross by her side she found it difficult to sleep and her thoughts whirled with all kind of imagined dangers.

  So, try as she might, she got little sleep and as the first pink glimmers of dawn were starting to lighten the eastern horizon, she gave it up all together. Throwing back the covers, she climbed out of bed, had a wash and brushed her hair, then got dressed. She unbolted the door and gently pulled it open, careful not to make a sound. She paused, listening. Even though it was still dark, there were already the sounds of breakfast being prepared downstairs. Slipping out, she made her way along the corridor and down to the common room.

  It was empty of customers, the plank benches piled on top of the tables to allow a maid to sweep the floor with a brush of bundled twigs. The girl glanced up as Lia stepped into the room.

  "Oh!" she said, dropping a quick curtsey. "My apologies, my lady. I didnae see ye there. Ye are up early. The porridge willnae be ready quite yet."

  Lia smiled. "That's fine. I wanted to take some air anyway."

  She crossed the common room to the back door and stepped outside. The air was what her father would have called 'bracing' which meant downright freezing. The high walls of the stable yard meant it was filled with gloom but even so, she could see that the stable hands were already busy mucking out the horses. What time did people get up in this time? She guessed it couldn't be much past five in the morning.

  "Could ye not sleep?"

  Lia spun around to see Ross walking towards her, leading Traveler. The big horse shook his mane out and snorted at the sight of Lia. Traveler's saddlebags were packed and slung over Ross’s shoulder. Lord, when did the man ever sleep?

  “You said we were to be off early this morning.”

  "Aye, we have a long way to go today." He frowned. "Are ye well, lass. Ye look tired?"

  You don't know the half of it, she thought. I'd probably have slept better in the stable with you than I did in that bed. She froze. Where had that thought come from?