It took only seconds for these thoughts to crystallize into action. Leaping from the shadows, Lion took a swipe at the hands of the man just as he swung his leg over the sill.
"Bloody hell!" the man exclaimed, the knife clattering to the floor. He leaned back to avoid Lion's stroke, lost his balance and fell. His hoarse scream was cut off by a thud.
When Lion looked out and down, he saw a second man jump down from the rope, grab his fallen companion under the arms and begin to drag him away.
Lion sprinted for the door, snatching up his tunic as he went. As he rushed into the hall, he tripped over Red Will, who slept across the threshold.
"Where are you going?" Will cried, drawing his dirk.
"Outside. Two men tried to climb in the window," Lion said over his shoulder as he hurried to the stairs.
By the time they reached the courtyard, the men were gone. The only clues to their identity was a scrap of Gunn plaid caught on the sill, and the dirk.
At least he now knew who was after him, Lion thought as he retraced his steps to his room.
They were likely the same thugs who attacked him and Rowena on the stairs. His men had wandered through the castle and the makeshift camp in the lower bailey, looking for anyone who bore bruises or walked with a limp. Unfortunately, thanks to the football game and the rigors of training, there were many soldiers in that condition, including some of his Sutherlands. But Lion knew he had wounded this evening's visitor. A fresh cut on the arm should be easier to spot.
Chapter Ten
I must be insane, Rowena thought.
After lying awake half the night telling herself she had to avoid Lion, here she was riding across the drawbridge side by side with him in the soft morning light.
She'd been furious with him when he'd shaken her awake an hour ago.
"I've told you not to creep into my room," she'd snapped, pushing tangled hair from her face with one hand and tugging the blanket up to her chin with the other.
He'd grinned, plopped down on the edge of her bed, casual as you please, and toyed with a lock of her hair. "I had no choice. There's bound to be Gunns guarding your door, and as they do not seem to like me very well, I did not think they'd let me in."
"They have orders to keep you out. You've no right to sneak in here while I'm asleep."
"I had to. It's a grand day, and the lads and I are riding into the hills to get in a wee bit of practice with the spears before tomorrow's games. I said to myself, 'my lady would rather gallop over the heath with the wind in her hair and the sun on her face than stay here cooped up with these harpies.'"
Damn him. Damn him for knowing her so well. "I am not your lady," Rowena grumbled.
"Aye, you are that, lass. You've yet to admit it to yourself, that's all. Now come, you wouldn't want your stubbornness to cheat you of the chance for a lovely ride."
Hateful man. "I'll go, but only for the change of scene and a bit of fresh air, mind."
"Of course," he'd said gravely, but his eyes twinkled.
They were twinkling still, Rowena saw as she glanced at Lion, riding so straight and tall beside her.
He moved his stallion closer. "What say we ride on ahead and leave this pack behind?" His smile was warmer even than the steadily rising sun. Dangerously intimate.
Her insides melted like butter. "My men would not like that," Rowena said, bolstered because Kier and Harry rode with the Sutherlands. Though she'd tried to make Harry stay abed, he'd insisted the wound was healing and he needed exercise. Another stubborn man.
"Ah, you make it deucedly difficult for a man, lass."
"I intend to make it impossible."
"Do you now?" He cocked his head, the warmth spreading to his eyes, igniting a fire that made her own blood heat. "I never saw a lass so set on denying her own true feelings."
"That shows how little you know me." Rowena wrenched her gaze back to the road, but her heart was unsteady. She was tired, that's all. She had slept little the night before, brief snatches of restless slumber punctuated by dreams that had left her sweaty and longing for what she could not have. Lion.
"Have you named the kitten?" Lion asked after a moment.
"Nay. I'm just calling her Cat till I can get home and let Paddy have the fun of naming her."
The hurt that clouded his expression sent a surprising shaft of pain through her chest, making it hard to breathe. By unspoken agreement, they seldom mentioned Paddy. For which she was pitifully grateful. It made the guilt of keeping the truth from Lion easier to bear. I'm sorry. But regret did not change the fact that she and Paddy were tied to the Gunns.
"How old is he?" Lion asked, the sadness gone.
Rowena started, and her horse shied. Controlling her mount gave her a moment to gather her thoughts. "Not yet five," she said, shaving almost a year off his age.
"My parents gave me a dog when I was five," Lion said. His face was in profile to her, as stark as the mountains that rimmed the valley. "Rowena, I am sorry that I had to lea—"
"He'll like the cat," she said quickly, her heart already breaking. She couldn't listen to him apologize for leaving, not with her secrets tearing at her.
Fortunately, the trail grew narrower, and they were forced to ride single file, Lion in the lead. Giant black boulders abutted the path, seeming to hold back the verdant forest beyond. Birds called out as they flitted from towering oak to lacy-fringed pine. Somewhere in the brush, small animals scurried away from the intruders.
Rowena lifted her face to the gentle breeze, smiling as she inhaled the scents of warm earth and fragrant woods. As a child, she'd often roamed the countryside near her home, content to spend hours watching a wren build its nest or a spider spin its web. Not appropriate pastimes for a lass who should have been learning to cook and sew, but the ones she'd preferred.
Lion, too, had shared her love of such things during their long-ago summer. After their passion had been sated, however temporarily, they would frolic in their glen like bairns. They'd waded in the burn, spied on a doe and her fawn and hiked the many animal trails. He'd taught her to fish; she'd woven garlands of flowers for their hair. While he climbed trees to pick wild apples, she'd stayed safely on the ground and collected them.
In all her years at Hillbrae, she'd not once explored the wild lands thereabouts. Too dangerous for her to go alone, Padruig had said, and he'd never had time to spend with her. She had eventually given up asking him for anything for herself. Paddy was another matter. She'd railed at Padruig for ignoring the lad most of the time and growling at him when he did speak to him. "Paddy thinks you do not like him," she'd said.
"I like him well enough. He's canny and braw, or would be if you'd stop coddling him," Padruig had snapped. "He needs to grow up tough and hard if he's to rule the Gunns after me."
The plain truth of the matter was Padruig had not been a loving person, but with him gone she intended to see her son learned tenderness and compassion in addition to swordsmanship. She'd see he grew up to be like his father. If only Lion could—
Do not even think it. Inside her, something cracked, like the shattering of fragile glass. It was an old, familiar pain, this wanting what she could not have, but sharper somehow.
Rowena shook it off. Looking around her again, she tried to find pleasure in what she did have. Oh, but she had missed this. She tipped her head back, letting the sun burn into her cheeks. The day seemed to wrap itself around her, the peace and calm temporarily filling the emptiness that was with her always.
All too soon they reached the crest of the hill and halted on an open plateau bounded on all sides by jagged rocks.
"This will do," Lion called. He swung down from the saddle and walked toward her as the others dismounted.
Rowena tensed when Lion reached for her, but his touch was light and impersonal as he lifted her to the ground. Barely was she settled before he strode off, issuing orders that sent men scrambling to unload the gear they'd brought with them. With little wasted time or motion, they h
ad targets set up at the far end of the open area. Six-foot-long spears were piled at the other end, and the men began choosing sides.
There was nothing quiet or orderly about this process.
The men, some of them with gray in their beards, boasted and taunted each other like a pack of young lads. Wagers and jests flew thick and fast.
"You'll have to excuse the lads," Lion said amiably as he spread a blanket on a flat rock and gestured for her to sit. "They've had a devilish time controlling their tempers while we've been at Blantyre, and I fear their spirits are high."
"Aye, but you can tell it's all done in good fun." Rowena sat and drew her legs up, arms wrapped around them, chin resting on her knees as she watched his Sutherlands.
Like most Highlanders, they wore woolen tunics, with their bright plaids kilted round their waists, the end flung over one shoulder. Yet they looked more civilized than the clansmen left behind at Blantyre, and their speech was more polished. She even caught a few phrases in some foreign tongue.
"Is that French they're speaking?"
"Aye, they picked up a bit of the language while we were away. And a good thing it is you do not understand them, for their words are too rough for delicate ears."
"I'd like to learn. Do you know any decent words?"
"A few," he said absently. Lion stood above her, his hands on his hips, his gaze narrow as he looked beyond his men to the distant peaks.
"What is it? Is something wrong?"
He looked down at her, the sun behind him, hiding his expression in shadow. "Now what could be wrong on such a fine day?" he asked, grinning.
He was waiting for something or someone.
Rowena did not know how she knew, she just did. She thought suddenly of the men who had attacked them on the stairs. Her pulse jumped in alarm. She wanted to ask him if he'd learned anything, he'd been adamant about keeping the incident a secret. Surreptitiously, she glanced about to see who was near.
Harry had wandered over to watch the spearmen, loudly lamenting the fact that his wounds were not sufficiently healed to permit him to show the Sutherlands how it was done. Kier stood at attention behind her rocky perch.
"Join them, if you'd like, Kier. I'll come to no harm in the midst of so many mighty warriors."
"I'll stay." Kier glared at Lion.
"Kier Gunn, you are making me more nervous hanging about like some great vulture. And I doubt that was Finlay's intent. Lord Lion has twice saved my life, for heaven's sake."
"I'm sure he had his reasons," Kier snapped.
"Enough," Rowena cried. "Go! Go glower at someone else."
"There's a man who takes his duties seriously," Lion observed as Kier stomped away. "Where is Dun this fine morn?"
"Sleeping, Kier said. Dun stood watch at my door last night and needed to rest."
Lion watched Kier, who stood stiffly to one side of the contest, yet kept an eye on them. "He does not like me."
"Nay." Rowena sighed. "Kier and Dun were appalled to learn of our betrothal, and who can blame them, for they fear I will forswear my duties to Clan Gunn." She pleated her skirts with clammy fingers. "I have explained the circumstances that led up to your…your declaration."
"Have you indeed? Did you tell them that nothing has changed between us?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
Rowena gasped, her head whipping up. "Nay, I did not, because everything has changed."
"Ah, Ro, you can lie to them, and even to me, but you cannot lie to yourself. This—this fire that burns inside us is as—"
"Do not." Rowena turned her head away, unable to bear the intense flame in his eyes, struggling to quell the answering heat that bloomed inside her.
"I am sorry, Ro. I did not mean to frighten you."
"I am not afraid." But she was, terribly afraid that she would weaken toward him. She stared at the men playing with their spears. "Why have we really come here?"
"So the lads might practice."
She looked up. "Nay, you are waiting for someone."
His dark brows rose, then a smile stole across his face, easing the tense lines. "You are too canny by half, lass." He hunkered down beside her. "There is someone I need to see. In fact, it is the real reason we rode up here, when we could have practiced just as well outside Blantyre's walls. But I cannot have my friend ride in with your Gunns here."
"Why do you distrust my men?"
"Alexander would give much to know where my friend is, and Eneas would delight in ingratiating himself to Alexander by supplying that information."
"Kier and Harry are my men…and Finlay's. They would not tell Eneas anything." She watched Lion closely, studying his shuttered expression. "What is it? What else has happened?"
He shook his head, then one corner of his chiseled mouth lifted in a half smile. "You are sometimes too quick for my own good, lass. I had a visitor last night. A man who crept into my room bent on mischief."
"Lion." She felt her blood drain away, leaving her cold and shaky. "Were you hurt?"
"Nay, I drove him off ere he could strike, but he did leave behind a scrap of his plaid when he fell. Gunn plaid."
Rowena gasped. "Eneas."
"It seems likely," Lion said, shrugging. "There's been ill feeling between us from the first. He may think to climb higher with Alexander by getting rid of me. Or Georas could have paid him to kill me, or—" his eyes glinted with wry humor "—he may take exception to my courting his brother's widow."
"Bah, he does not care what happens to me."
"Even so, I'm a wee bit shy where the Gunns are concerned."
"But you trust me?"
"With my life, lass. Will you come away with me while I meet my friend? I cannot tell you his name, but do think you'll be glad you've seen him."
Rowena stiffened. "If this is some ruse to get me off alone and seduce me in some sylvan glade the way you did before, you—"
" 'Tis a charming notion…very charming," he said, drawing out his r's. "But I swear I'm innocent of such plotting, and you know I'd never touch you or force you against your will."
She knew that; she was just afraid that if he touched her, what little willpower she had would evaporate.
"Will you not trust me?" He held out his hand and smiled, his gaze solemn and for once free of teasing or mockery.
"What of Kier and Harry? They will surely follow."
"My lads will see they're entertained while we're gone."
"You'll not hurt them?"
"Not physically, though they may be a bit wroth with me when we get back. Still, it's all in a good cause."
"I do not know why I am doing this," Rowena said. But as she put her hand in his, the feel of his rough, callused palm sliding over her smooth one sent shivers racing up her arm. She knew exactly why she was going with him. Because despite the cold dictates of her mind, there was no place she'd rather be than with Lion.
Light-headed with relief, Lion signaled Red Will to take care of the Gunns, and hustled Rowena off behind the rocks before she could change her mind.
She trusted him, a little at least, and cared for him far more than she'd admit. It was a long way from what he wanted, but he'd learned to take what he could get—and strive for more.
"It's just a short ways." Lion lifted a heavy pine bough out of the way and drew her into the verge of the forest. It was dark and quiet beneath the canopy of leaves. His confidence fled when she hesitated. "There's no cause for alarm, Rowena."
"I am not afraid." Smiling, she looked around and inhaled deeply. "I was but savoring all this."
"Aye." He relaxed and followed her gaze from tree to tree. "There's naught as sweet as a Highland glen in summer." Out of nowhere came the image of Rowena wading across their burn, her skirts caught up about her thighs, her face flushed with desire. They'd made love on the mossy banks to the sounds of spilling water and humming bees. "Rowena…"
She looked up, eyes filling with memories. The air around them was peaceful no longer, but charged with tension, shim
mering with awareness.
He stepped forward; she stepped back.
"Come, we'd best be going." His voice was hoarse with suppressed emotion.
Off to the right, a nightingale sang out. Lion grinned and changed direction, heading toward the sound of a bird that lived a thousand miles away. The thick forest gave way to a small clearing dotted with black boulders. He headed for the nearest one and seated Rowena on it.
"There is no one here," she said warily.
"Yet." Lion settled down beside her.
"Ye're late," said a raspy voice. Wesley Sutherland strode out of the brush, his steps swift but silent.
"Unavoidable." Lion stood and introduced Rowena to his third—or was it fourth?—cousin. "Where's the lad?"
"Nearby." Wes turned and whistled.
"How is he?"
"About as ye might expect."
Rowena gasped, and Lion turned to see Colin Ross enter the clearing, a Sutherland on either side of him. His thin face was ashen, his eyes shadowed and bleak.
"Oh, the poor thing." Rowena started forward, stopped when Colin whimpered and cringed against one of his: guards.
"Give him a moment, lass. The Stewarts roughed him up a bit before we could get to him, and he's frightened."
"Those beasts! Sweet Mary, how did you get him away?" Rowena whispered. "Where has he been all this time?"
"Here with my men," Lion answered. "They took him from the dungeon and have kept him safely hidden from Alexander's search parties, but the time has come to move him." He knelt in the grass. "Do you know who I am, lad?"
Colin nodded.
"Then you'll know I mean you no harm. Have my men been treating you all right? Have you gotten enough to eat?"
"The lad's appetite has been a bit poorly," Wes said.
Colin sniffed. "I want my mama."
"I am sure you do, and I'm sure she wants to see you, too," Lion said gently. "That's what I've come to talk with you about. Will you step closer and sit with me?"
Colin nodded and shuffled across the clearing, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He stopped in front of Lion.
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