Highland Hero

by Amanda Scott

  “Aye, sure, but when I awoke and needed to…” She paused, feeling heat flood her cheeks, then added in a rush, “I did not want to wake Hetty.”

  “I’d wager that the place you sought lies out back and that the alewife directed you to go the shortest way, through the kitchen,” he said grimly. “So how is it that you are coming in by the front door?”

  Her lips felt dry, and her heart still pounded, but she strove to sound reasonable. “I did ask her, and she showed me the shack out back. The air is so fresh outside that afterward, when I saw only a lad out back feeding chickens and no one on the road—”

  “Come in and shut that door,” he snapped.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He took a menacing step toward her, and she hastily shut the door.

  “There, I shut it! But I must say—”

  “If you are wise, you will be silent.”

  “For someone who dislikes being interrupted—”

  “By heaven, one way or another, I will teach you to obey your—”

  “My what? Just what authority do you hold over me, sir? In troth, I think you assume too much authority,” she went on, scarcely aware of what she was saying or that once again he had stirred her to say more in her anger than she had meant to say, or than was wise. The stress of the weeks since Annabella’s death was suddenly too much and words spilled from her mouth as if someone else had taken possession of her tongue. “I don’t know how you can see danger in taking an early-morning walk from the back door to the front, to breathe some fresh air. But it must always be as you say, mustn’t it? It can never be as anyone else wants it to be. No minion of Albany’s can be seeking us here yet, so there cannot be any danger in what I did.”

  “Can there not? I thought I proved to you on the ship that your notion of danger may not be the only danger that threatens you,” he declared, reaching for her.

  As he did, James snapped, “Don’t touch my cousin!”

  Glancing at him in dismay, Marsi looked swiftly back at Hawk and saw that he had frozen in place. Any relief that she felt was short-lived, however, for he was already looking beyond her. Only then did she hear what he had heard.

  Horses, a number of them, were approaching—nay, entering—the yard.

  “Go upstairs, James, now,” Hawk said, his tone brooking no argument.

  “Marsi must come with me,” the boy replied staunchly.

  When Hawk nodded for her to go, Marsi fled.

  Chapter 6

  Ivor sat down again as the alewife bustled in and set a mug and a tall flagon known as a tappet-hen on the table before him.

  “Ye’ll be wanting tae try this ale, sir,” she said, pouring from the tappet-hen into the mug. “I’ll bring ye some warm bread tae go with it.”

  He looked up to thank her. But before he could speak, the door opened and two expressionless men in black with the well-known emblem of the Duke of Albany prominently displayed on their cloaks strode into the room.

  “Good morrow, mistress,” the taller of the two said to the alewife.

  Bobbing a curtsy, she said, “And a good day tae yourself, sir. Will ye and the others yet outside be wanting ale or a meal the noo?”

  “Nowt, for we ha’ broken our fast. Had ye many guests for the night?”

  With a nod toward Ivor, the alewife said, “Just this lad and his auld auntie, wha’ still sleeps abovestairs.”

  “Where be ye headed?” the spokesman asked Ivor.

  “My aunt has kinsmen at Callander,” Ivor said.

  “Aye, then, ye’d best hope ye get there afore it snows,” the man said. “One can smell it in the air.” With a nod to his companion, he led the way outside.

  Ivor looked at the alewife. “My auld auntie?”

  “Since me business be mine own, sir, I expect that yours be nane o’ theirs. And that ye’d liefer no answer a lot o’ their fool questions. Forbye, they dinna count bairns, so why should we? Now, d’ye like your eggs boiled or spitting wi’ butter?”

  “Two, boiled hard,” he said. “Will those men of Albany’s come back?”

  “Not them. They spent last night in Milton and will be going back the noo tae Stirling. Sithee, the duke’s men come by at odd times each month and stick their noses in wherever they will. ’Tis best tae keep clear o’ them when ye can.”

  “I thank you for your sound advice, mistress,” he said, wondering how much she had heard of his angry exchange with Marsi.

  She smiled. “Ye’ll want tae linger over your meal, sir, tae let them get well ahead o’ ye. They’ll be eager tae get back home, though, as usual.”

  She went back to her kitchen, and Ivor sipped his ale, listening until the last sound of the visitors had faded in the distance. Then he went upstairs and rapped on the women’s door.

  Hearing Mistress Hetty’s voice bidding him enter, he did so.

  “Those were Albany’s men,” he told the others. “They’ve gone now, so we can eat. But before we go down, you should know that the alewife told them that you are my aunt, mistress. She did not mention Jamie or the lass.”

  “Good lack, sir!” Hetty exclaimed. “Do you think they are looking for us?”

  “I don’t know how that would be possible,” he said. “The alewife said they spent last night in Milton and were heading back to Stirling. Even if Albany reached Turnberry right after we left, it is unlikely that he’s had the time or even good reason to send orders out for his men to seek us here.”

  “That is true, Hetty,” the lass said. “Recall that his grace does not know our route and no one at Turnberry except Dennison knows that we left on a ship.”

  Mistress Henrietta nodded. “We’ll go down at once then, sir. We were only awaiting your assurance that the newcomers were harmless or had gone.”

  “You and Jamie go ahead, Aunt Henrietta,” Ivor said.

  She looked from him to Marsi and back at him. “I expect that if I am to be your aunt, sir, you should call me Aunt Hetty, as Jamie will.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, shifting his gaze to Marsi. “Go along now, mistress.”

  Hetty hesitated. “But, sir—”

  “Go,” he said without looking away from Marsi. “Since we are apparently to travel as a family, we may as well begin to act like one.”

  Color flooded Marsi’s cheeks, but she did not speak, and a moment later they were alone in the room. Ivor realized then that Hetty had left the door ajar. He shut it with a snap and heard the lass gasp.

  Marsi eyed him warily. He did not seem as angry as he had been earlier, but alone with him as she was, she felt more vulnerable than she ever had.

  In a strange way, she felt as if she had known him all her life. She certainly knew him well enough to know that if he had decided to punish her for her outburst earlier, he would do it. She would be unable to stop him.

  His attitude might change when he learned exactly who she was, but she doubted that it would. He was a man who knew himself and not one whom rank or wealth would impress. That the King trusted him enough to entrust Jamie to his care told her that his grace believed Hawk would do whatever he had promised to do.

  The tension stretched between them until it was nearly palpable.

  At last, he said with unexpected mildness, “Suppose you tell me who you are, my lady, and what demon possessed you to attempt such a deceit. And do not spin me more of your lies. My temper won’t tolerate them.”

  “I have told you no lies, sir.” Although she said it firmly enough, she felt heat flooding her cheeks again. “I may have left out some details, but—”

  “Stop there,” he said with a dangerous edge to his voice. “If you are James’s cousin, you have left out more than a few details. Not only is your very pretense a lie, but you certainly told me one by claiming to have served her grace.”

  “That was true,” she said, striving for calm. If she did not entirely succeed, at least he was controlling his temper. “After my parents died,” she went on, “Aunt Annabella invited
me to Turnberry to join her other ladies. I… I thought some of them would be near my age, but they were all much older. Even so, they were kind to me. I… I did go with her last summer to Perth, and… and we stayed at Scone Abbey after she fell sick. In December, after she d-died, the King…”

  She paused to regain her composure, wishing that he would speak, but he did not. He seemed unaware of the tears welling in her eyes, let alone any other sign of her distress. He seemed only impatient for her to continue.

  His attitude steadied her, however. She said, “The King was distraught then. So when he asked me to return to Turnberry with him, to be there when he relayed the dreadful news of her death to Jamie, I… I…”

  Choked by her tears, she could not go on.

  “I see,” he said quietly.

  She nearly explained that she had not wanted to return to Turnberry, that she had felt abandoned by everyone until she recalled that Hetty would be with Jamie. Then it had seemed sensible to go. Not that she’d had a choice, since the King was her guardian if only because his Queen had acted in that capacity before her death.

  Watching Hawk, she decided that she would be wiser to explain no more just then, lest she stir him to erupt again. With her emotions on edge as they were, she doubted that she could retain what was left of her composure if he did erupt.

  “What is your full name?”

  “Marsaili Drummond Cargill. They named me for my mother, who was Annabella’s youngest sister.”

  “Very well, Lady Marsaili. We will talk more about this, but for now, I’ll say only that I will tolerate no more deception. If my own sister had behaved as you have since we met, she’d have earned herself a rare skelping. From now on, you and James will follow my rules, and I will treat you equally if you do not. Think about that before you decide to fly out at me again as you did earlier.”

  “I do apologize for that, sir,” she said, trying to sound remorseful but hearing only exhaustion in her voice. It sounded most unlike her, but then so had the angry virago that she had become when she’d lost her temper earlier. What if he believed that demons really were trying to possess her? And what if they did?

  To her relief, he nodded, opened the door, and gestured for her to go ahead.

  As she passed him, her skin tingled in awareness of how close he was. She felt a nearly irresistible urge to turn to him, apologize again for her actions, and try to soothe away his vexation with her, just as she might have done with Hetty or, before their deaths, with her parents. But instinct warned her that Hawk would not respond as agreeably as any of them would have to such soothing.

  Following immediately after that train of thought came the realization that what she had really wanted was a hug from him. Just the thought of those strong arms wrapping around her, holding her tightly…

  With a sigh, she pushed the thought away, knowing that he was not finished with her yet. However, he was unlikely to take her to task before Hetty and Jamie, so since just the four of them would be traveling together until his men caught up with them, she should gain a respite. It occurred to her only when she was halfway down the stairs that she ought to have told him that Albany would be almost as eager to get his hands on her as on Jamie, and why.

  She could not tell him such a thing right there on the stairs. Nor could she seem to think of another way to tell him straightaway. She would do it later.

  If she was being cowardly, so be it.

  Ivor followed Marsi, wondering at himself. Her outburst in the taproom had surprised him, but he had reacted as any man of sense in his position would have, with intent to teach her that any time she fought with him, he would win.

  With so much at stake, she needed to understand who was in charge.

  With that purpose in mind, he had meant to give her a tongue-lashing that she would not forget. Instead, the instant he had recognized the depth of her grief, he had wanted to comfort her. He controlled that urge, but by doing so, he had barely even begun to express his opinion of what she had done. Sakes, he had not even demanded all the answers that he wanted from her, chief amongst which was the primary one: What demon had possessed her to pose as a nursery maid?

  He could scarcely expect her to believe now that he had meant it when he’d said that he would brook no more deception. Surely, she must think that she had managed to wrap him around her thumb. And, if that was what she thought, God alone knew what she might say or do next.

  He had to correct the situation, and quickly.

  His volatile temper usually alarmed people. His men had deep respect for it.

  Recalling even Jake’s reaction to a mere frown from him, Ivor wondered what it was about Marsi that had so unmanned him. To be sure, she was much smaller than he was, but so was his sister Catriona. And he had never had any trouble expressing the full range of his temper with Cat when she angered him.

  Cat certainly knew better than to lie to him, but Marsi, by her actions and omissions, had lied. She would doubtless continue to insist that she had not, but deception in and of itself was a lie, and so he would tell her.

  They found Hetty and James tucking into a generous breakfast. At Ivor’s place was a bread trencher, a bowl of hot porridge, two boiled eggs in a small basket, a platter of sliced beef, and a large basket of warm bannocks. Bramble jam and a pot of butter sat in the middle of the table beside the tappet-hen.

  James eyed Marsi speculatively, and as she took her seat across the table from him, he said, “I’m glad tae see that ye’re still in one piece. It got so quiet up there that I feared the man had throttled ye.”

  Ivor fixed a stern gaze on the boy, but James continued to look at Marsi.

  Her cheeks were bright red, but Ivor saw no sign of the tears he had detected earlier. She did not reply to James’s comment, though.

  Hetty said, “There is fresh cream in that wee pitcher, my la—” Breaking off with a click of her tongue, she looked at Ivor and said quietly, “James told me that he gave her away, sir. Still, I expect we should go on addressing her as Marsi, aye?”

  “Aye,” he said. “We will also discuss the weather and other such everyday topics whilst we remain in this room, mistress. When we finish eating, I’ll go and see that the stable lad is preparing our horses, whilst you three get ready to go.”

  “It is but ten miles or so from here, I believe, to… to where we are going next,” Hetty said. “Unless you mean to travel on from there.”

  “Nay, we’ll wait there for my men,” Ivor said. “Wolf told me of an inn at the north end of that town. Before we left Turnberry, on his advice, I gave orders to my men to seek us first in Balloch, at the south end of Loch Lomond. When they do not find us there, they will go on to that other inn, taking care not to pass us by.”

  He saw Marsi look at him, and although she pressed her lips together as if determined to keep silent, he understood what she wanted to ask as easily as if she had spoken. “We’ll see my men by sundown tomorrow, if not sooner.”

  Her eyes had lost the merry, often mischievous look that he had begun to watch for, and he missed seeing it. She looked a little sad but not sullen when she nodded and returned her attention to her food. At least, she was not the sort of female who refused to eat whenever she was upset.

  James began to stand, saying, “I’ve finished, so I am going—”

  “Excuse yourself properly, lad,” Ivor said.

  “Aye, sure, but I just want go out and find the pri—”

  “Wait for me then,” Ivor said. “I don’t want you going outside by yourself, James, not here or anywhere else we may go. Not under any circumstance. Nor, when we stay at inns or alehouses, are you to go alone into the common rooms.”

  “I won’t then, sir,” James said. “You will be finished shortly, will you not?”

  Hearing a small sound from the lass beside him that was surely a bitten-back chuckle, Ivor kept looking at James but smiled. “Art in a hurry, laddie?”

  “Ye’ll ha’ the goodness no tae laugh,” James said. Then
he shifted his gaze to Marsi. “Ye, too. Nor tae make me laugh, either o’ ye.”

  Marsi murmured, “But, Jamie, you said that the reason you wanted me to come was because I make you laugh and Hetty does not.”

  “Aye, sure, but I’m having second thoughts on the matter just now,” he said. “If ye’re coming, sir, I wish ye’d bestir your behouchie.”

  “And just where did you hear that dreadful phrase?” Mistress Hetty demanded, her eyebrows arcing high.

  “The helmsman, Coll, says it whenever he thinks one o’ his lads be dawdling about his work,” James replied with his infectious grin. “I like it.”

  Ivor, still smiling, said, “Doubtless, you should make as little use of it as possible in polite company, lad. What a helmsman says on his ship is not what your father will want to hear in his audience chamber or anywhere else, I’d wager.”

  “Ye’d be wrong then,” James said. “He likes good words and amusing phrases. I heard a number of good ones yesterday tae tell him,” he added. “And if I repeat them now and now, I’ll be more likely tae remember them for him.”

  Ivor glanced at Marsi and was glad to see the merry twinkle back in her eyes.

  She said, “Mayhap we can compose a list for his grace, Jamie. If we both try to remember as many good ones as we can—”

  Clearly aware that she was teasing him, the boy shook his head at her. But when he looked at Ivor again, anxiously, Ivor nodded. “Aye, we’ll go now,” he said.

  To Marsi, he added quietly, “Help Mistress Hetty collect your things. James and I will fetch our bundles when we return, and we’ll bring everything down then.”

  She nodded again, but the merry look had vanished. The change stirred an urge in him to touch her. Abruptly, he turned away to follow James.

  Watching them go and aware that Hetty was already getting to her feet, Marsi sighed. She was not looking forward to going back upstairs. She thought Hetty would likely have even more to say to her than Hawk had.

  To her surprise, Hetty said nothing about Hawk or about Marsi’s being alone with him in the bedchamber. She just bustled about in her usual way, tidying up.