Highland Hellion

by Mary Wine

  “I will not,” she assured him. “I will never leave my husband to answer for my cursed lot in life.”

  Diocail offered her a slight curving of his lips before the large doors opened again. There was the pounding of a staff against the stone floor before the herald cried out.

  “Diocail Gordon.”

  “Wait.” She reached for his arm. “Where is Rolfe?”

  Diocail sent her a hard look. “If he did nae come back through those doors, lass, he’s likely on his way to the dungeon.”

  She stiffened and felt Diocail grasp her forearm. “Do nae rush in. Let us see what Morton is planning first.”

  The herald was looking at Diocail, and Adwin was trying to decide why he was hesitating. She didn’t duck her chin fast enough, and Rolfe’s captain recognized her. There was a flash of fury before Diocail pulled her along with him and left her in the captain’s care.

  “I’ll see what news there is of yer master.”

  Adwin gave Diocail a brief nod before he clamped his hand around Katherine’s wrist and pulled her into a passageway.

  “Are ye daft?”

  He bit back the word woman.

  “Determined,” she answered in a whisper. “I will not let Rolfe suffer for me.”

  “He’ll no’ like hearing that ye are here.”

  “Of course not,” she agreed, causing Adwin to lower his brows in vexation. “You both know I am not submissive or obedient.”

  Adwin snorted in response.

  “So it should not shock you to find I am here,” she said. “And I will give myself up to save Rolfe. It’s my cursed lot.”

  Adwin looked around to see the other McTavish retainers had followed them. They were glaring at her in disapproval until she finished. She wouldn’t say they gave her their full approval, but their expressions eased as her words hit them.

  “There might be another way,” Adwin said as he held tight to her arm. “I can nae in good faith allow ye to step into harm’s way.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” she reminded him.

  Adwin merely grunted and cast her a stubborn look.

  Katherine reached out and grabbed his jerkin. “I am a hellion, and I will not allow Rolfe to shield me from my fate.”

  Adwin’s eyes twinkled with admiration for just a moment. But they were distracted by the huge doors opening again. Diocail and his two senior captains came striding out as the herald called another name.

  Diocail strode past them without stopping. He sent a swift look toward Adwin that had the man following a few moments later.

  “Release me,” Katherine hissed at the captain, who was still holding her arm. “Or it will be whispered that you prefer boys in your bed.”

  Adwin responded instantly, but he glared at her. “Stay right beside me, gilly.”

  He stressed the word gilly, making sure she understood she’d better act the part of his apprentice servant or he’d suffer the rumors. It was enough of a reprieve. She fell into step behind him, tucking her chin as she became just another of the McTavish retainers. It was a skill she’d been perfecting for years on MacPherson land.

  Of course, she’d never thought she’d have so much to lose if she failed to dupe those around her.

  “He’s in chains.” Diocail was waiting behind a huge stone pillar in the outer entryway. “Morton took a great deal of delight in telling me all about what happens to Highland lairds who do nae give obedience to him.”

  “His fate?” Katherine asked.

  “Undecided,” was the hushed response. “I’m forbidden to leave until the matter is settled.” He sent her a hard look. “I believe the earl wants to make an impression on me to carry home to the Highlands.”

  Her belly knotted in response. Diocail reached past Adwin and grasped her arm because the blood was draining from her face. She drew in a deep breath and ordered herself to remain strong.

  She was a hellion, not some damned weak-kneed girl.

  “Go…” She had to roll her lips in because they were suddenly dry. “Go and tell Morton…Rolfe was just attempting to best him. That I am here.”

  Adwin had crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it will come to that. Maybe no’. For the moment, we need to strengthen our position.”

  “Which means we’re no’ giving up our one advantage,” Diocail added.

  The men around her grinned. She knew the look, had seen it plenty of times when they were raiding one another and trying to best each other.

  “This is not about a few cows,” she argued.

  “The earl sees ye as little more than a fine one,” Diocail corrected her. “We’d be fools to hand ye over, trusting in his mercy.”

  “He doesn’t have any,” she was forced to admit.

  “Exactly, lass,” Adwin said. “So we’ll have to see who is here to aid us, since Marcus dares not show his face.”

  “Gordon and McTavish working together,” Adwin said. “The earl might approve, if we were nae intent on defeating him.”

  There was a soft round of chuckles in response. Katherine would have liked to join in, but she was too busy fending off the dread trying to smother her hope.

  She had to keep it alive, had to find the way to free Rolfe.

  Without a doubt, she knew it would be worth even her life.

  * * *

  “Bridget Hussy would be satisfied.”

  The Earl of Morton shifted his attention to his adviser, William Ruthven, the Earl of Gowrie.

  “I crave an alliance with the Earl of Bedford, not his wife.”

  “Both have advantages,” Ruthven continued without cringing over the tone Morton used. “The countess controls a vast wealth. Since Rolfe wed the girl without a contract, ye could keep the dowry.”

  Morton nodded reluctantly. “And yet that is no’ an alliance with England.”

  “Francis Russell has not left Elizabeth’s side in eight years,” Ruthven argued. “The girl is just a bastard.”

  “An acknowledged one.”

  Ruthven nodded. “Yet she has been in Scotland for seven years now. Too long for the man to want her back. Better to press the countess for a dowry and leave Katherine Carew wed to McTavish.”

  “Which will not satisfy the question of disobedience,” Morton said.

  The Earl of Gowrie sent Morton a long look. “That need to satisfy yer pride is becoming very costly. The Bedfords have more money than the Queen of England. More gold than a single by-blow is worth. Considering that ye stole the girl, getting anything for her is gain enough.”

  “Scotland needs unity,” Morton growled. “If ye can nae put that foremost in yer mind, ye are no good to me. Get out.”

  Beyond the private chambers of the Regent of Scotland, William Ruthven, Earl of Gowrie, encountered the Earl of Angus. Morton had dismissed Angus the week before.

  “That man thinks he’s king,” Ruthven remarked in a hushed tone.

  “Aye,” Angus agreed. “And James is getting old enough to do something about it.”

  William looked around, making sure they were not being overheard. “Only if we get that lad away from Esmé Stuart.”

  Angus grunted at the mention of the king’s new, very French friend. “This is a dangerous topic of conversation.”

  “I am more concerned about how dangerous it might be if we leave it unspoken,” Gowrie said. “It’s one thing to insist on a few weddings in the Highlands to bring feuds to an end, but another to throw a man into chains for no’ being willing to hand over his own wife.”

  “Morton should be pleased to have the English bastard out of his hands and no longer looking to him for her keep,” Angus agreed.

  “He’s talking about hanging the McTavish.”

  Angus snarled. “Bloody Douglas. What does he think that is going to accomplish?”

 
Gowrie looked around again. “From what I can see, Diocail Gordon is staying to see the outcome.”

  “Morton just might succeed in uniting those clans after all,” Angus said. “But against us Lowlanders.”

  “Aye,” Gowrie answered. “It’s growing past time for Morton to be removed from that throne he likes to sit in.”

  “Maybe we can use this to our advantage.”

  Angus lifted an eyebrow in question. Gowrie sent him a grin. “I’m going to find Diocail Gordon and see how deep his ties with the McTavish run.”

  * * *

  He didn’t regret anything.

  Rolfe shifted and tried to find a spot on his knee to lean his head without pain. The chain connected to the collar around his neck was too short to allow him to lie down on the floor of the cell. Looking at the built-up muck, he decided that was likely a good thing. The stench told him exactly what the dark filth was composed of. If the smell didn’t clue him in, the lack of a toilet bucket in the cell did.

  He didn’t regret it.

  None of it.

  A man only had his honor to call his own.

  His father would argue that he’d been a darned fool, and perhaps it was a fitting label. All that admission did was make Rolfe smile. Being a fool for Katherine, well, he’d happily live with that.

  The first time he’d seen her, he’d known she was unique.

  He’d had to have her.

  And it had been worth it.

  No matter what.

  Was that bewitchment? Love? He had no idea, except for the fact that even there, in that stinking cell, he was sure he could smell the delicate scent of her hair. When he closed his eyes, she was there, looking at him with midnight eyes, the very opposite of his own green ones.

  Hellion…

  Oh yes, she was that.

  But she was his hellion.

  * * *

  “Morton doesn’t have any mercy,” Katherine said.

  Adwin had a mug in front of him, but he wasn’t drinking the contents. Rolfe’s captain eyed her with a look that twisted her heart.

  “I care for him.” She came closer, sitting beside Adwin on the bench. The fire in the hearth had died down, and the men had made their way abovestairs to sleep. She’d sat in her tiny room, waiting for the noise in the small town-house to die down. “You must allow me to free him.”

  Adwin shook his head. “I could no’ fail to protect ye, lass. I’ve watched over that lad for nearly a decade now. He is me life.”

  She slowly smiled. “I know. It’s clear on your face when you look at him.”

  Adwin offered her a grin. The captain kept a full beard that made him appear gruff most of the time because it was so thick and dark.

  “What makes ye think Morton will let Rolfe go, even if I tie ye up in a bow and deliver ye like a trained dog?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know for certain.”

  Adwin made a grunting sound.

  “However,” she continued, “I know Morton likes to have his way. So if his desire is to trade for me, we should convince him that Rolfe was simply testing his nerve.”

  “Needling him?”

  She nodded. “He might see the humor in it. Convince him a Highlander like Rolfe means such as a compliment. After all, there would be no point in trying the nerve of, say…an Englishman.”

  Adwin snorted and reached for his mug. “That might well get me thrown in chains alongside Rolfe.”

  Katherine smiled at him. “Find me a dress, and the earl will think me as helpless as I was when he knew me before. As such, I doubt he will place me in chains. Such circumstances will be far easier to escape than the ones Rolfe finds himself in now.”

  Adwin went still. She watched him contemplate her with a critical eye. It was a compliment to be looked at in that manner, because he was seeing beyond her gender now and weighing it against what he knew she’d done.

  “I did nae think of it that way.” He slowly started to chuckle, a sound that was very menacing.

  “Nor did I.” Diocail emerged from the shadows. “But she snuck down here to tempt ye with it when she hoped ye were alone. That tells me she thinks there will be those among us who do nae agree with her. She’s playing on yer soft feelings for the lad.”

  “Why do you always emerge from the shadows?”

  Diocail sent her an arrogant smirk. “Because it’s harder for people to kill me when I see them first.”

  A tiny tingle went down her spine in response. There was more than just arrogance in his tone; there was hard, firsthand knowledge that was sobering.

  Adwin set the mug down with a firm sound, recalling them to the conversation she’d begun. “The idea has merit.”

  “She is a woman.”

  “Aye,” Adwin answered. “And yet, no’ so very like others. Marcus trained her.”

  “He did,” Diocail replied. “Better remember that fact, because if ye return to the Highlands without her, Marcus will have yer balls.”

  “Marcus taught me how to smash a man’s balls.” She leaned forward and sent Diocail a hard look. “I assure you, I was a very accomplished student who will not be content to sit abovestairs while you attempt to rescue my husband.”

  Diocail was hard to read. His expression remained tight for long moments while she refused to bend. A corner of his lips twitched at last.

  “In that case, we’ll get ye a dress.”

  Seven

  “The earl will hear no pleas for mercy.”

  Adwin tightened his hold on his belt and resisted the urge to curse the herald. “I’m no’ looking to go in there and babble like some English ambassador.”

  The herald’s eyes flickered with amusement, even though his expression remained smooth.

  Adwin leaned closer. “Tell the man I have what he wants.”

  The herald locked gazes with him. Adwin stared him straight in the eye.

  “Go on, man,” Adwin urged him.

  The herald gave a reluctant nod before he disappeared. Adwin rocked back on his heels as he waited, being careful not to look where Katherine was. There was a tap on the floor when the herald returned.

  “The Earl of Morton will see you.”

  Adwin tugged on the corner of his bonnet when he entered the room. “As far as courtly manners, that’s about as much as I know.”

  Morton was angry, but Adwin caught a flicker of amusement in his eyes in response. “Truth be told, I have little patience for French fashion—and even less for the games the McTavishes seem intent on playing.”

  Adwin faced off with the man, gripping his belt and tightening his resolve. Telling tales by the hearthside was one thing; this was another. Today, whether his audience was convinced would have serious consequences.

  “The lad is young,” Adwin began. “Sense… Well, that takes a wee bit more time to grow.”

  “Rolfe McTavish lacks it, sure enough.”

  “That’s why the laird has me watching out for the lad.”

  Morton leaned back in his chair and made a motion with his hand. “Get on with it. I am a busy man.”

  “I have the girl,” Adwin said.

  Morton sat up again. “Here?”

  Adwin nodded. “Of course. Rolfe was just attempting to swipe the cheese out from under yer nose.”

  Morton bared his teeth.

  “Lads do such things,” Adwin was quick to add. “I pulled a few stunts of that nature in me own day that are still bringing me grief. And there are a few stories about ye making the rounds in the Highlands.”

  Morton grunted but relaxed. “Why did ye nae bring her in yesterday?”

  “Had to fetch her up from where Rolfe left her in the country,” Adwin answered. “And I do nae mind saying plainly that it likely did the lad a bit of good to spend the night in chains. Maybe it will teach him s
ome sense.”

  “Bring her in.”

  Morton snapped his fingers, and his men opened the doors. Adwin watched the man’s eyes narrow when he saw Diocail Gordon bringing Katherine forward. He had a disgusted look on his face as he half tossed her toward Morton.

  “English chit,” Diocail declared. “I pity the man ye wed her to.”

  “You swine.” Katherine drew in a deep breath and looked at Morton. “How much longer must I endure this country?”

  “As long as I tell ye to, madam.” Morton sent her a stern warning look.

  Katherine played her part, folding under the power of the earl’s gaze and lowering herself before him. When she straightened, she began to pluck at the front of her skirt as though she was nervous.

  “So, is it an agreement?” Adwin pressed the earl.

  “A poor one, if ye ask me,” Diocail added. “One day in her company, and ye’ll be begging her father to take her back.”

  “You cannot expect me to enjoy being taken to your barbaric Highlands,” Katherine informed Diocail. “Savages. The lot of them.”

  “Hold yer tongue, woman.” Morton pointed at her. “Or I’ll have ye locked in a bridle.”

  Katherine shut her mouth, inwardly cringing at the thought of such a device being used on her. It was a cage of sorts that went over the head, with a plate inserted into the mouth that often included hooks or barbs to cut into the tongue. It would be locked at the back and was often used on women for gossiping.

  Adwin let out a bark of laughter. “No’ so happy to be here now… Are ye, mistress?” He reached up and tugged on his bonnet again. “Sorry, my lord, but I can nae hide the fact that I will be well rid of her. Still do nae understand what Rolfe was thinking to try to keep her.”

  “He claimed to have wed her.”

  Adwin grinned, and Diocail made a show of smothering his amusement. “His father would have his balls first.”

  Even though it was part of the charade, Katherine still cringed. Rolfe’s father wouldn’t receive the news of their wedding well. Of course, at the moment it hardly mattered. Morton was much the same. She shied away from thinking that he looked even more arrogant, because circumstances were dire enough without adding to them.