Which meant the warning would have to be sent now. It would be risky trying to send a man down to the village, for Alexander had ordered the guard doubled.
"Oh, while we're about it, we can look for Red Will's dog. The thing's gone missing again."
Lion grinned and relaxed. The little terrier was trained to carry messages between the castle and the stables in the village, where Roderick Sutherland worked with the blacksmith. He'd get word to the lads to draw back.
"Well, then, looks like we've a day or so to polish our skills for the remaining games. Georas will likely take the wrestling." The bastard had killed two men already with his bare hands. "See that none of our lads are goaded into entering against him. Spear hurtling is another matter. We'll ride into the hills first chance we get and practice without any of the other clans judging our skills."
Bryce grinned, eyes twinkling with the knowledge that they'd accomplish other things there, as well. "That sounds like a fine idea. I could do with a bit of fresh air."
"We'll see if Lady Rowena cares to ride out with us."
Bryce frowned. "Is that wise?"
"Wise?" Lion cocked his head, remembering their discussion on the battlements and her concern for his safety. "Mayhap not, but I'm beginning to make headway in winning my prickly Rowena. I canna leave off the wooing now. Speaking of which…" He unlocked the chest at the foot of the bed and began rooting through the few personal things he'd brought with him. "Ah." He seized a small leather pouch and upended the contents into his hand—a large cabochon ring, a broach, a set of intertwined gold bracelets. He was not much interested in jewelry, but when he'd seen these in an Italian goldsmith's shop, he'd bought them. Now he knew why. "These should do nicely."
"For what?"
"Betrothal gifts. I intend to shower her with trinkets, ply her with song and honeyed kisses."
Bryce's pale brows rose. Then a wide grin creased his usually somber face. "Given what Sim had to say on the subject of Lady Rowena's opinion of you, I think you've got a long, rough road to travel, my friend."
"What did she say?"
"That she wanted nothing to do with you."
"Mmm." Lion frowned and looked down at the jewelry winking in his hand. "Mayhap I'll give her all three pieces at once."
"They may not be enough. Better see what baubles Lord Alexander has in his strongbox that he might sell you."
Lion's eyes narrowed, his mind shifting from one objective to another. That might work as a ruse. While Alexander showed off the rings and trinkets he had, Lion could get a peek inside the locked box and see if the papers he sought were there. "I may do just that."
"Careful," Bryce whispered.
"Always."
"Well, you can stay up plotting how to win the fair lady. I'm for bed," Bryce said heartily.
"Aye." Lion stowed the jewelry back in the chest and stripped off his tunic.
Come morn, he'd have to find out which way his men had gone so he could steer the search party in the opposite direction.
Chapter Eight
Lion was waiting for her in their special place, the little bower where they'd been meeting every day for a week. Seven days. So short a time, yet it seemed she'd known him a lifetime, been waiting forever for him. Seven days of talking and dreaming and yearning.
He'd been patient with her, gentle and tender and patient in his wooing. Because she was young, he'd said, and delicate and precious to him, he'd not rush her. He'd brought her trinkets—a rose from his mother's garden, a dainty gold chain as fine as a spiderweb to wear around her neck. Presents were a rarity in a household as poor as hers was, but she hadn't wanted the gifting to be one sided, so the day before, she'd baked him cakes sweetened with honey from the hive her mother tended.
They'd eaten the cakes from each other's fingers, washing them down with the wine he'd brought for her because she'd never tasted any. When the cakes were gone, he'd licked the crumbs from her lips and kissed her with a thoroughness that stole her breath. He'd held her close and let her feel what she did to him, his body vibrating, straining against the passion held carefully in check by the force of his will.
Aye, he'd been patient and loving with her.
One look at the light in Lion's eyes as he lifted her from the saddle today and she knew his patience had reached an end.
So had hers. "Love me," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Ro…"He crushed her to him, his kisses hot, greedy.
She met them eagerly, opening her mouth to him, clinging as her body went liquid with desire.
He lifted his head, groaning when she tried to drag it back down. "Wait. You are so young."
"I'm ten and five. Many my age are wed ere now."
His eyes locked on hers, stripped of the teasing laughter that often lurked there. "I canna wed you till I come back from France," he said quietly. "It may be three years… or four."
"I'd not expected marriage. A noble Sutherland and a dirt-poor MacBean." She shook her head.
"It is not like that." His grip on her shoulders tightened. "I love you, Ro. Jesu, why else do you think I've held back this long time when I've wanted you so badly my innards are strung tight as catgut?"
"I—I thought you were giving me time to know you. I thought you were seducing me." She smiled into his intent, scowling face. "It's been right effective. I love you, too." She touched his jaw, where the muscles bunched. "I want you. Now. Today."
"You would lie with me and no vows spoken between us?"
"I need none, because I love you."
"And I you." Groaning, he dragged her back into his arms and kissed her till they were both breathless.
When her legs gave out, he swept her up, carried her into the heart of the grassy glade and made a bed for them on his cloak. It pleased her that his hands were unsteady as he unlaced her gown and slipped it off.
"Beautiful. So beautiful, my lass." He made her feel she was, his callused hands warm and deft as they raced over her body, exploring and seducing. Somehow her shift was gone and his clothes, too.
"Aye," she cried, twisting against him, reveling in their differences, the feel of his strong, muscular body flowing over her slender one, possessing, dominating without crushing. She hadn't expected it to be like this, like a swift ride over a high mountain trail.
Her response seemed to inflame him, for he bent to feast on her sensitive nipples. They peaked for him; the heat spiraled through her, tightening the coil low in her belly. She wanted, how she wanted. The innermost core of her bloomed and throbbed. "Please. Please, now," she whispered.
"Aye." He rose above her, face taut with passion. His hands were warm on her thighs, opening her, lifting her…
She arched up, reaching for him, welcoming him…
A muted crash cut through the haze of pleasure.
Rowena opened her eyes. She was surrounded by shadowed velvet hangings, not sun-dappled leaves. Tangled sheets, not her lover's arms, were wrapped damply around her body.
The crash came again, from outside in the courtyard.
A dream. Just a dream.
Dazed, she lay in Annie Shaw's bed and willed her heart to slow. Why had she dreamed of that long-ago day? Because Lion was edging his way back into her life. No matter how hard she tried to hold herself aloof from him, he was the one man to whom she was vulnerable. How beautiful it had been that first time, how pure and unsullied their love. What had gone wrong? If he'd tired of her and simply gone off to France, his interest had certainly picked up again.
Admit it, she thought. It was a bit flattering to have such a lovely man running after her. But she could not afford to give in. She could not risk another broken heart, nor could she risk Paddy's future.
Disgusted with her lack of control where Lion was concerned, she flopped over on her belly. A small pouch slid off the empty pillow and into her hand.
What in the world?
Rowena sat up, undid the leather thong and upended the contents onto the bed. Thre
e bright objects tumbled out on the blanket, old gold gleaming richly in the gloom—a double bracelet, an intricately fashioned broach and a ring with a blue stone winking in its center. A scrap of parchment floated down on top of them.
Rowena didn't need to read it to know the things were from Lion. But she looked anyway, just to see what excuse he'd given for sending them.
Though your beauty far outshines them, I'd have you wear these trinkets I purchased in Italy.
Rowena tossed down the note. So, he expected to woo her with these reminders of the trip that had taken him away from her. "Well, it will not work."
She got up and stumbled around the little screen that hid the washbasins and garderobe. When she returned, she was wide-awake. Plopping down on the bed, she traced the broach with one finger. How had he gotten them in here without awakening her? She glanced at the window and sighed. He'd done it again—climbed into her bedchamber while she slept.
Jennie would doubtless have thought it romantic.
The longer Rowena thought about it, the angrier she became. Tossing back the covers, she leaped out of bed again. "Well, I'll see he gets his jewelry back directly." She dressed in a rush, throwing on the clothes she'd worn to the banquet the night before and not bothering to rebraid her hair. Tossing the jewelry into the pouch, she stalked to the door.
A little man rose from where he'd been crouched against the wall opposite her door. "Where are you off to?"
"Who are you?"
He was not much taller than she was, a wrinkled man with skin the color of walnut and shrewd black eyes. "Heckie Sutherland, at your service."
"I've business with your lord." It suddenly occurred to Rowena that she did not know where his room was. "If you will kindly lead me to him."
"Well…" Heckie looked down the dim corridor. "Right now, I'd guess our Lion is arse deep in preparing to ride out and a mite short on time for visiting."
"Ride out? Where? It is scarcely light."
"Dawn, aye, that's when himself said they was to send out the search parties."
"Looking for Colin? Oh, my God. Th-they cannot mean to hunt him down."
"That seems to be the plan," Heckie said noncommittally.
"And Lion means to go with them?"
"Everyone's going, except a few who're on guard—"
"We'll see about this." Rowena turned on her heel and marched down the stairs.
Behind her, Heckie scrambled to keep up. "See here, Lion knows what he's doing!"
"I doubt it. I sincerely doubt it. He's so concerned with protecting his standing with the earl that his good judgment and his morals have gone begging." She had to speak with him, change his mind. "He knows these other lairds. If he spoke against going, they'd listen and—and then there'd be no search party."
"Lady," Heckie pleaded.
Rowena plunged ahead. As she rounded the bend toward the first floor, a babble of voices filled the stairwell. Men lined the corridor, she saw when she reached the landing. Men in chain mail and riding leathers, some armed, others just belting on their swords. All were making for the main entrance. She was swept along with them, out the heavy doors and down the covered wooden steps to the courtyard.
Here, chaos truly reigned. Extra torches rimmed the bailey, casting yellow light on the plaids of a dozen different clans. In the harsh glow, men strode about shouting orders. Horses milled and pawed the ground impatiently, while servants scurried to pass out cups of ale and hunks of dark bread.
There was a vitality to the scene that might have stirred her if she hadn't so dreaded the quest that sent them forth. Standing on tiptoe, Rowena scanned the ward and spotted a dark head that rose proudly above the others. Lion stood apart from the swirling mass, talking intently with Bryce, she saw when she finally worked her way through the crowd to them.
She plucked at Lion's sleeve, gasping when he turned on her, one hand on his sword hilt.
"Rowena! What are you doing here?"
"Hoping to persuade you from riding out on this heinous—"
He pressed two fingers across her lips. His other arm went around her waist, lifting her off her feet and hugging her close—a bit too close to be loverlike. "Shh. Are you trying to get yourself hanged?" he whispered hoarsely.
"Nay," she murmured around his fingers. "Just trying to save a lad who—"
"He'll come to no harm."
"How can you say that when this pack of—of fiends is preparing to beat the bushes till they fi—"
"You will have to trust me on this, Rowena." His mouth replaced his fingers. He tasted of strong ale and steely determination. When he raised his head, it gave her slight pleasure to see his own breathing was as ragged as hers. "You found the gifts I left on your pillow."
"Aye." Rowena shook the small pouch under his nose. "I was on my way to return them to you when I learned of this—"
"Why return them?"
"I will not be bought with a few foreign baubles."
"Nor did I seek to do that," he said gently. "I did but think it wrong that while the other ladies here drip with gold and gems, the fairest among them goes unadorned."
Ohhh. Rowena weakened. How kind. How romantic. But she could not afford to have romantic notions about the man who had once betrayed her. She was a wise, practical woman with a son to consider. "I cannot accept them." She thrust the pouch at him.
His hand gripped hers. "We can discuss it later…when I return."
Rowena's anger found a new focus. "If you ride out with these child hunters, I will never speak to you again."
"Ah, you've not lost that fire." His free hand went to her hair, unbound and tumbling about her shoulders. He stroked it back from her temple, a faint smile warming his rugged features. "You've all the colors of autumn in the Highlands trapped here. Aye, and your eyes are as blue as a summer sky. But it's your braw spirit that stayed with me all these years."
Rowena could not breathe, could barely think when he set himself to charm. "You've—you've no right to say such things to me when I'm angry with you."
"The truth's never out of place, lass, and the facts are often not as they seem." His eyes, shadowed by the brim of his helmet, were dark and intent. Hidden meanings swirled in them, mysterious and elusive as smoke from the torches.
"What are you saying?" she whispered.
"Just this." He drew her so close her breasts brushed the cold metal links of his mail. "That I need you to look beyond the obvious. The earl rides out, and I must go, though I'd prefer to stay and while away the day with you."
Rowena hesitated, her eyes searching his for answers that seemed just beyond her reach. Behind her, men prepared to ride out. Some were friend, others foe. With them might ride the men who'd attacked them on the stairs last night. Was this all some elaborate game? A mummers play? Who were the heroes? The villains? What was the purpose of the piece? And what role did she play? "Too many questions and no answers."
"I'll answer as many as I can when I return. Till then, I'd ask you to trust me and do nothing rash."
Rowena nodded slowly, chilled as much by what he implied as by the cool morning air. "I will await your return, then, but I will not accept these jewels."
"I look forward to debating the matter with you, madame." He brought her hand up and kissed her knuckles, his lips lingering over each in turn. That simple touch sent shivers up her arm and down her spine. His smile widened, quick and engaging. "Go back to sleep, Rowena, and dream of me."
Did he know? He couldn't, and yet… Her face heated and she snatched her hand back, but he only laughed and shepherded her inside the castle. The entryway was deserted now, and they were alone for the moment.
"I'm leaving three men behind to watch over you. They'll be along directly after I've given them their orders. This is one matter that's not open to discussion," he added, and kissed her quickly. "Be a good lass till I come back."
He was gone before she could give him the swift kick he so richly deserved.
"Well, your lover is
certainly the protective sort," drawled a chillingly familiar voice. Eneas descended from the stairwell that led to the guest chambers. His hair was clean, his face scraped free of whiskers. The mail he wore was new, and the tunic over it was black and red, the earl's colors.
"You look well and prosperous," Rowena said sharply.
Eneas shrugged, but he looked smug. "Saving His Grace's life has had unexpected benefits. A room in the castle, new armaments and horse. And a title. I am now Laird of Westray."
"You are no longer interested in Hillbrae then," Rowena said, feeling a bit giddy with relief.
"I will always have an interest in my home." He paused, eyes hard and malicious. "If only to keep it from the hands of you and that brat you are trying to pass off as my brother's."
Rowena felt the blood drain from her body, leaving her cold and frightened. "Paddy is Padruig's son."
"So you say."
"So Padruig said."
"Aye, he did, but then, Padruig would have claimed the devil's own to keep me from ruling Clan Gunn." Eneas stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I've always wondered how it happened that you bore him a bairn when so many had failed. Or was it his?"
It was her worst nightmare. "Of course Paddy is Padruig's son…and his heir."
"Much you care about the Gunns, you faithless jade. My brother is scarcely cold in his grave and you are spreading your legs for another man."
"That is not true. My betrothal to Lord Lion is—is political. He is a strong man, high in the earl's favor, and he thinks I needed a protector."
Eneas snorted. "Everyone is concerned for your safety. Finlay has sent two men to guard you."
"What do you mean?"
"I dispatched a message to Hillbrae the day we arrived, telling them what had befallen us here, including the unfortunate misunderstanding with the MacPhersons and our rescue by Lion Sutherland. A response came yesterday during the games. Finlay sent two of his men along with the messenger." Eneas's lip curled. "To protect you. He seems to think I am not providing adequate care for his little darling."
"Who did he send? Why did they not come to me last night?"
"Dunmore and Kier came. And they did ask after you, but I told them you were busy with your lover. They quit the hall to bed down with my men, I think," he said off-handedly. "They must still be sleeping off the rigors of their hurried journey here."
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