“Lass, there is no earthly reason why ye should be goin’ through this. If I could, I would keep ye from all of it.”
“I know,” she replied, letting out a deep sigh. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Father was a hard man, to be sure. I know he had enemies, but to kill him—to murder him? And you and your father think it has to do with me? Our match?”
He didn’t know for sure, but if Finley was involved, it most definitely had to do with their match. Which meant she was in more danger than just from her brother as the new Earl. Especially if this was a plot devised by the French. They had been long enemies of England, and a match between two prominent families could be a strong alliance. It was exactly why his own father and hers wanted their match in the first place.
“Aye, lass I do. I think whoever is behind this, needs to be stopped, before they come for you.”
Finley couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing behind a great tree, he had the perfect view of the abandoned hunter’s cottage, yet he remained hidden from view.
He watched as first, Goraidh rode away. And then William, with the lass in his lap, rode in the opposite direction. To the West. Anger seethed inside him. When would that man learn? Joining with the English would only bring their clan pain.
Where are ye goin’ with the lass, William? What are ye doin’?
He quickly ran through the wood, away from his clansmen and toward his own horse. He had sent Samuel and the other men in his party ahead, with orders to return to MacNair Castle. If they did as told, and carried William’s message, mayhap there would be no suspicion that Finley worked against William.
William and Goraidh both suspected him, and he felt badly about that. If only he could help them see he was doing what was best for them and their clan. He was not the enemy. The English were the enemy.
He had to figure out what their plan was. Seeing the lass with them had been a surprise. William had grown too attached to the Sassenach lass. Finley should have killed her on the road. It was not as if the two had already tied the knot, was it? With some smooth wine and a feisty Scottish lass in his bed for a day or three, William would have gotten over her easily enough.
He knew William was dead set on honoring the betrothal, but still, to take the girl in the night? That was unlike him. Something else must’ve happened. Something else had gone wrong. William did not appear to have kidnapped the lass. At least, she did not seem to be upset as she leaned back into him on the horse. Finley guessed the lass left her home willingly.
Finley felt a pit of apprehension form in his stomach. Being in England was bad enough, but now he had to visit someone and try and learn more. It would be too long before he could return to Scotland.
He jumped on his horse and rode. He hoped it wasn’t too late.
“Ye made me a promise!” Finley stared at the man, his eyes red with anger. Ye made me a promise and ye did nae come through!”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about. Why are you here?” The man waved him away like he was a bothersome servant.
“I cannae go home, cannae show me face in the castle keep. Not until we fix this mess. Yer responsible. Where I come from men have honor. They honor their words. They honor their promises.” He paced back and forth in front of the man.
The room had high ceilings and light wood paneling. There was limited furniture, and the man sat against a hearth that was lit but gave off no warmth. Finley knew and didn’t care that his voice would carry. Let the servants know the true nature of the man they worked for.
He hated being in such a strange country. No Highlander in his right mind would think the men of this land would be good allies, yet what choice did he have?
I could nae let him do it. It had to be stopped.
If Finley didn’t make the devil’s bargain, William would’ve married the lass. The English and the Scots would be tied by the bonds of their alliance, and Finley could not allow that to happen.
William was so damned stubborn. Finley hadn’t counted on his friend being swayed by a pretty face; a pretty face that could very well be the downfall of his clan. Now William was going after the lass, he couldn’t just leave well enough alone. Let her brother take her back home, and move on.
There were plenty of bonny Highland women who would make a good match for the Laird’s heir, but no. William was like a beastie dog with a bone where the English wench was concerned and now he suspected Finley.
“Like I said,” the man continued, his hands idle, but Finley noted his eyes were sharp. “Why are you here?”
“Ye owe me. Ye owe me for what ye had me do.”
“You did nothing!” the man snarled. Finley jumped back. There wasn’t much that made him nervous. He was after a large warrior, but the man in front of him was unpredictable, comparable in Finley’s mind only to a rabid dog.
He put his hand on the hilt of his blade. If he had to, he could kill the man, but he knew if it came to that he would not make it out of the place alive.
“I did everything. You created a slight diversion, that was all,” the man continued his rage. Finley kept quiet. “It was I who procured the poison. It was I who poured it in his cup. You dare come here, show your face, risk everything? What if you are seen? You idiot, you risk everything! The girl isn’t marrying your precious lord, you got what you wanted, yet you come here talking in circles of honor and promises.”
He doesnae ken.
“William, me friend,” Finley said, “…is with the lass.”
“What do you mean? The girl is tucked away, safe in her bed. She will be married to Belmonte before month’s end. It is over, man.”
“Nay, she is with William MacNair. I saw her leaving with me own eyes.”
The man’s eyes grew wide, and Finley could tell his rage had returned. He watched as the man clenched his fists as well as his teeth.
“You will find them.”
“I mean to try,” Finley replied. “William means to protect the girl, and honor the betrothal. If we doona intervene, yer plan has failed. What will ye have me do with the lass if I find them?”
“I don’t care what you do with him, but I need her alive. Bring her to me.”
“Aye,” Finley replied. It was too late to turn back now. He knew if he did not follow the man’s orders it would be his head on the chopping block.
Mayhap if he left peacefully and made his way back to MacNair castle, he could confess to the Laird, tell Murdo what he knew and try to move forward. Finley knew being tied to the man in front of him would be his undoing.
Yet that would mean the marriage between William and the English lass would go on, and he couldn’t allow it. The fate of the purity of his clan was more important than any one man. He gathered his reserve.
Best to see this through.
Chapter 15
By the time dawn had come two days later, Emma was exhausted. Even though William had done the hardest part with the riding, she was emotionally exhausted, dusty, and weary from the road when William finally stopped at a travelers’ Inn. After securing the chamber, under the names of Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie, he left her in the modest room while he procured them breakfast, and what Emma hoped for more than food, a bath.
Oh, I do hope I made the right choice. But truly, what choice had she? If she had stayed, her brother would have forced her hand to Belmonte. Or worse, if she refused—she shuddered—she would be carted off to an asylum. William was her only option. Riding with him had sent a thrill through her. Being close to William, leaning into his strength, filled her with comfort that her own brother had ripped from her just the night before.
Emma looked around the room. She had never stayed in a traveling inn before. William told her it was best to let him speak with the Innkeeper. He was right. She would not be able to pass as a commoner with her educated speech. The room itself was cozy. There was only one bed, and as Mr. & Mrs. Mackenzie were a married couple, there was no way to ask for an additional bed or cot. It would draw too much attention.
Besides, we are both much too road weary for the bed to pose a problem, right? A small shudder of anticipation crept down her spine. She moved toward the window and watched as the small port town was already bustling with life.
Men walked about on the docks, others were moving out with their small fishing vessels, women where there with carts selling wares, and children ran about. Emma had never seen as much life, not even on the days that she took baskets to the village families.
The door opened. Emma turned to see William enter the room with a smile on his face. He was indeed a fine-looking man.
“Good mornin’ Mrs. Mackenzie,” he said, giving her a wink, as he moved toward her.
“Good morning, Mr. Mackenzie,” she replied.
“The innkeeper, Seamus, is goin’ to send up a maid with hot water for yer bath.” He motioned to the screen that Emma had not noticed, which shielded a long wooden tub. She couldn’t control her sigh of relief at the idea of fresh hot water on her aching body.
“What about you? Will you also have a bath?” Something dark crossed William’s eyes.
“After ye finish lass, but while ye bathe, I’ll go an’ speak with the stable hand to secure us fresh horses for the evenin’ by trading in mine.”
Emma was at once relieved and disappointed. She was relieved that she would not have to share her bath with an audience, but she did not like that William would be out of the room, in the daylight. What if he were recognized?
“Doona fash, lass. Nae one here will ken who I am. I am just plain old Mr. Mackenzie, passin’ through with me lovely wife. In these parts, Mackenzie is as well known a name as yer own John Smith.”
“Very well, but please be careful.” Emma blushed, it was as if he could read her thoughts. “I won’t take long in the bath, and we both will need our sleep. We have a long journey ahead.”
“Aye, indeed we do, lass.” He took a pillow and one of the woolen plaids on the bed and moved them in front of the fire.
“What are you doing that for?” She asked.
“Ah lass, even though to everyone in this shore town we are husband an’ wife, I’ll nay compromise ye, just yet. I’ll sleep on the floor today. Ye take tha’ bed.”
“William, I couldn’t possibly. You are doing so much more of the heavy lifting with all of our belongings you have in your care on this journey and you must be exhausted. Please, we can share the bed, or I can sleep by the fire.”
He moved toward her in one swift motion. His movements were so fluid it took her breath away. Unsure what his intentions were, she lifted her hands to her chest, letting one hand flutter over her breast where her heart lay.
“Lass,” he whispered, just a hair's breadth from her. She could feel the heat of his breath. He took one chestnut lock in his hand and twirled her hair through his fingers. He closed his eyes. When he opened them she saw the depths of his desire for her, and heat began to pool in her center.
“I’ll no discuss it again, today ye take the bed. If we were to share, I could not be responsible for me actions. And I’ll no have any lady, but especially me own lady, sleep on the floor of a dusty old tavern. Do ye understand me?”
Emma could only nod in response, not trusting her own voice. William then did the most surprising thing, he smiled and placed a light kiss upon the center of her forehead. “Good lass. Now, the maid will be here soon. I shall take me leave of ye. Enjoy yer bath.”
And in instant, William was gone out the door and Emma felt her anxiety vanish as he left.
Share the bed? The lass must be out of her mind. William could no more easily share a bed with Emma and not make love to her, as he could face Marston and not run him through with a sword.
The room in the inn was small, too small. William was relieved to leave Emma to her privacy. Yet, at the same time, he found the minute he made his way down to the stables that all he could think of was getting back to her. The lass had affected him greatly. His momentary disappointment at not accompanying Goraidh to France subsided the moment he looked into Emma’s expectant gaze. She needed him here.
Her life had been sheltered. The life of an English lady was so very different than that of a Scottish lass. Not better, nor worse, just different. He thought of the girls he knew at the keep. Few of them would be told whom, nor how to marry. It wasn’t unheard of in the Scottish way, that of arranged betrothals. But it did seem as though the women of his clan at least had more say in their intended.
Then again, yer Da sold ye off to the English didn’t he? Maybe they weren’t so different after all.
“Och, what can I do for ye, friend?” William looked up, interrupted from his thoughts by a wizened old fellow, who looked to be older than his Da.
“If yer the stable master, I need to secure two beasties for a long journey North,” he replied. The man nodded and motioned for William to follow him into the stables.
“Me name’s Gregory Mackenzie, and who do ye be?” Of course, of all the men, he would run into a Mackenzie. He couldn’t believe his luck. What he had told Emma was true, Mackenzie was a right common name in Scotland, and more men carried it than didn’t.
Still, this man would want to speak of common cousins, aunts, and uncles. It would be difficult to keep up the lie. The man looked kind and trustworthy enough. He looked up at the Inn and wondered if he should not get the horses, get Emma, and leave.
But the lass needed her rest, as did he. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to get to the crofter’s cottage. They were still a couple day’s ride from Galashiels and had to go further north.
“Och, Mackenzie ye say?” He said to the man, giving his voice a more boisterous brogue than usual. “I’m a Mackenzie, as well. From where do ye hail?”
“Really?” The old man’s eyes lit up. “What’s yer mother’s name? For sure we must be kin?”
“Catharine,” Catharine was his mother’s true name. Though her family was a MacDougal, nay a Mackenzie. William knew in times like this it was best to tell as few lies as possible. It would help make him more believable. “Me mother’s Catharine and me Da’s Murdo. Don’t suppose ye ken of them?”
The man put his finger and thumb to his chin and looked off to the distance. “No, no, while there are plenty of Catharine Mackenzie’s to be sure, I reckon I would remember a Mackenzie with a name like Murdo if I came across him.”
“We’re from further up North. That’s why I need th’ beasties. I’m taken me new wife to meet the family. She’s a bonny lass, she is.” The old man gave him a smile.
“Ah, young love. Ye have me being jealous, lad. But I have tha’ animals ye need.” They moved over to where the horses were growing restless in their stalls. “I did ken a Murdo once, years ago. A braw man, big like ye are.” William sucked in a breath. Dammit, I should’ve remembered Da’s name was unusual.
“But he was no a Mackenzie,” the man continued, oblivious to the turmoil he was creating in William. “Och, never ye mind the ramblings of an old man, let’s go get ye some horseflesh.”
William let out the breath he was holding. Thankfully the man didn’t put two and two together. Next time he may not be as lucky.
After he’d settled the horses with Gregory Mackenzie, William wanted to give Emma a little more time for her ablutions, so he wandered the area that surrounded the Inn and the docks. It was a small village. As far as William could tell, it was only fishing and travelers that kept the villagers in food and ale.
He was wary of the nooks and hollows that separated buildings from the dock—plenty of places for criminals or ne’er-do-wells to hide. He made a note to keep Emma close as night fell and they made their way out of the village. He watched the sun climb over the bay that led out to the North Sea and knew enough time had passed.
William entered their room at the Inn quietly. He had heard no sounds coming from within. Emma had drawn the worn fabric sheets that served as curtains in their room, giving the room a strange, warm glow. There was a half-eaten tray of food paced o
n a table by the fire. His heart warmed as he saw she had left some for him to break his fast.
William quietly moved about. Emma had finished her bath and was sound asleep in the bed. One naked arm could be seen from beneath the blanket. He allowed himself to become transfixed by the pale, peach expanse of skin. A small freckle took up residence just at the fold where her forearm met her elbow and William was overcome with a desire to taste that freckle. Did it taste of her? Honey, and sweetness.
Did the lass sleep without a shift? William let out a small groan. The smell of fresh lavender and Emma permeated the room.
The memory of their kiss in her bedchamber floated to his mind. It had only been last evening, but it seemed so far away. Too far away.
It would be best for him to bathe quickly, and get some rest himself. He moved behind the screen and took off his road-dirty clothes. He noticed Emma had thoughtfully arranged for him to have his own fresh bath water. It was a luxury he didn’t expect but was surely glad for. He sank into the water, with a sigh. Thankfully it was still warm.
Disciplined by the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 12