“I need a dagger.” She folded her hands before her and returned his smile.
He frowned. “You’ve no need for a dagger. You are well protected within the curtain wall.”
“I’d feel better if I had one.” Still she smiled, though it seemed forced.
“You are under my protection. Every man at my command would come to your aid should you need it.”
Her smile disappeared altogether. “I appreciate the protection.” She took a breath. “However, I’d also like to feel that I can defend myself if I need to. How about a bow and arrows? I’m an excellent archer.”
“I dinna doubt your skills. You’ve no need to arm yourself, and no need to hunt. You will be provided for. I must think of everyone else’s safety.”
Her eyes grew large, and her mouth fell open. “Are you implying you won’t arm me to protect everyone else from me?”
“’Twas you who broke Hugh’s nose. Do you forget bringing me to my knees in hand-to-hand combat? You drew blood that day. You’re dangerous enough without a blade to hand.”
“You do mean that!”
“I have said you are under my protection, and that should suffice. No harm shall come to you.” What was wrong with the woman? She was supposed to tell him how manly he was. She was supposed to praise his prowess with the sword and admire his well-formed body.
“What about the little daggers everyone uses to eat? Can I at least have one of those?”
“God’s blood, you’re obstinate. You have asked, and I have said nay.”
Her eyes flashed, and her arms crossed over her chest. “If you won’t get them for me, I’ll find another way.”
“I forbid it,” he snapped.
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“Do you mean to provoke me, Alethia? God’s truth, your company is far more pleasing when you say naught.” The second the words left his mouth he wished to call them back. He reached for her, thought better of it and raked his hand through his hair. Her eyes met his just long enough for him to glimpse the hurt. She stomped away with the lad in her wake. Why did she always make him feel so twisted up inside?
“’Tis a novel approach,” Liam said, coming to stand by his side.
“What?” Malcolm kicked a stone through the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust.
“Winning the lass’s heart with harsh words.” Liam chuckled and placed his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “’Twill be interesting to see how this new strategy fares.”
“She vexed me.”
“Did she? How so?”
“She wishes to arm herself with dirk and bow. Next she’ll be asking for a claymore.”
“A dirk? Every female in our clan carries one hidden somewhere upon her person, and you refused her? Why, Malcolm?”
“’Tis a long story. I have no’ told you all there is to tell.”
“Ah, I see.” Liam chuckled. “Well, you dinna have time to tell me now. While you ply your lady with insults, others take a more conventional approach.” He nodded toward the keep.
Malcolm growled low in his throat and pulled his shirt back on. Alethia stood poised upon the bottom step to the great hall, a young swain with a handful of wildflowers before her. ’Twas an effort to refrain from running. Even so, his strides ate up the distance between them.
“Do you no’ have some duty to perform?” Malcolm snapped at the weaver’s oldest son.
“I was only giving milady—”
“Now be on your way.” Snatching the bouquet from the man, Malcolm scowled at her. “You will no’ accept flowers from any other man.”
“They aren’t flowers.” She grabbed the plants from his hand and shook them under his nose, dislodging a shower of dirt to rain down upon his chest. “These are the plants I need to make the medicine for the weaver’s youngest child.” Pausing, she studied the late blooms in her hand. “OK, some of this is floral, but not in the way you’re thinking.” Another shower of dirt hit him. “I have news for you. I will accept flowers from anyone I want. In case you didn’t hear me before, listen carefully now. You are not the boss of me.”
What is a bossamee? A final layer of grit had settled over him. Why, in the middle of being vexed beyond reason, did he feel like laughing? He fought the urge to kiss her silent. “Och, woman. I dinna want to bicker.”
“No? What do you want?”
“Faith, lass.” He brushed some of the soil from his shirt. “I would have your faith that I am able to keep you safe.” Stepping closer, he asked, “What need have you for a wee dagger when you have me to protect you?”
“Oh, Malcolm.” She rolled her eyes. “I know you can protect me. I saw how good you are with that sword, but you can’t be with me every minute of every day.”
“Nay? The notion holds great appeal.” Malcolm placed his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. Her lips parted slightly, as if opening for him. Desire pulsed through his veins. His line of vision narrowed to the rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing grew more rapid. She wanted him. He was sure of it.
He drew her close and kissed her. She moaned and put her arms around his neck, pressing her soft curves against him. Malcolm’s blood caught fire and rushed straight to his groin. He deepened the kiss, forgetting all but the way she fit so perfectly in his arms and the sweetness of her lips.
Kissing Lady Alethia could easily become his favorite pastime. Aye, that and goading her until her lovely cheeks bloomed with color. He tightened his hold and concentrated on coaxing her mouth open with his tongue.
Lord, the man could kiss. Afraid her knees would buckle, Alethia put her arms around Malcolm’s neck. Seeing him half naked and glistening with sweat certainly hadn’t helped matters. He was definitely a feast for the eyes. She couldn’t press herself close enough to him. Her insides filled with delicious heat when he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, and she forgot where she was and why he’d ticked her off so badly.
Lost in sweet sensation, it took several seconds before she became aware of a small body inserting itself between them. Hunter pushed to separate her from Malcolm’s embrace. She broke the kiss and tried to slow her breathing back to normal. Remembering where they were, her face heated.
Several people had stopped what they were doing to watch. Women were staring at her and whispering to one another behind their hands. Mortified, she muttered, “You can’t just hold and kiss me like this right here in the middle of the bailey.”
“Nay?” Malcolm leaned in and whispered back, “Where might I hold and kiss you like this then?”
His wicked smile scrambled her insides. She fought to gain control over her raging hormones. She couldn’t fall for Malcolm. He was from a different century, and who knew how long she’d be here? Straightening her spine, she replied, “You know what I mean.” She took Hunter’s hand and headed up the stairs to the door of the keep. “You’re such a Neanderthal.”
“I heard that, True.”
“I certainly hope so, Malcolm.” The notion that he had no idea what it meant tickled her.
She worked up a good head of steam on the way to the ladies’ solar. Malcolm was so overbearing and controlling it drove her crazy. The way he manhandled her and kissed her senseless made her even angrier. He didn’t fight fair.
“Good morning, Elaine, Lydia,” Alethia greeted them, and Hunter signed as they entered the solar. She took her customary place on the seat opposite Elaine. Hunter fetched the book she’d made for him and settled himself against her knees. She had illustrated animals and the signs that went with each. Elaine had given her the vellum, ink and quills. She also taught her how to trim the ends of the long goose feathers when needed.
Alethia tried to work on the gown she’d cut from the bolt of the muted plaid the weaver had given her. Agitated and distracted, she tossed it down and rose to pace around the room.
Lydia set her sewing aside. “What ails you, child?”
“Your son. No offense, Lydia, but his head is as thick as these castle walls.”
Elaine giggled, and some of the tension left Alethia’s shoulders. She shot her friend a quick grin.
“Aye, he gets that from his father.” Lydia sighed. “Pray, tell us. What has my thickheaded son done now?”
“Do you know about what happened with Hugh?” She settled on the edge of one of the window seats.
“My husband told me. It must have been terrible for you. Had we known what sort of character he possessed, we would have sent him on his way much sooner.”
“I asked Malcolm for a dagger or a bow and arrows. I know I’m safe here, but because of what happened, I don’t feel safe. Anywhere. Do you know what I mean?”
“Of course we do,” Elaine said. “My brother will get them for you.”
“No. That’s the problem. He won’t. He said I have no need to arm myself because I’m under his protection.” She shot up and paced again. “He can’t be with me twenty-four/seven. I need to feel safe when he’s not around.”
“Twenty-four and seven?” Lydia asked. Mother and daughter shared a puzzled look.
“Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week,” she clarified. “Can you see why I’m upset?”
“Is this what you have in mind?” Elaine raised the hem of her gown to reveal a sheathed dagger strapped to her calf.
“Yes!”
Lydia raised her gown to reveal a jewel-handled dagger. “’Twas a gift from my husband upon Malcolm’s birth.”
“Why won’t Malcolm let me have one?” She turned to Lydia. “He even implied my being armed would be a danger to everyone else. He was rude to the weaver’s oldest son, and he had the gall to…” She’d been about to say he’d kissed her breathless, but thought better of it. Lydia was his mother, after all.
“What else did he do?” Lydia asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Oh, he just ticked me off.” She sat down with a huff.
“Ticked you off? We dinna know what that means. Your speech is passing strange.” Elaine laughed.
“He vexed me.”
“I see no reason why you canna have a dirk and a bow if you wish. We’ll go to the village to see the smith and the cooper,” Elaine said. “Our cooper is a fair hand at making a good bow.”
“Malcolm has forbidden me to go beyond the curtain wall.” Both women looked stunned by her words.
Lydia’s brow furrowed. “Mayhap he fears some harm might befall you. My husband told me how you came to us. They don’t know whether it was your father’s enemies or his allies who sent you away. Though he might go about it the wrong way, I’m sure Malcolm only wishes to keep you safe.”
“Wouldn’t I be safer if I had a weapon or two?”
“Of course. We often visit the village. ’Tis nothing out of the ordinary and only natural we should bring you with us.” Lydia nodded firmly. “Leave Malcolm to me.”
“Where is Lady Rosemary?” Alethia noticed her absence for the first time.
“She and my Uncle Robert left for home this morn. They’ve much to do before their journey to London.”
“Oh. They don’t live here?”
“This is only one of several MacKintosh holdings,” Lydia replied.
“Oh. I had no idea.” Alethia tucked her sewing back into her basket and retrieved the plants she’d dropped on the floor. “I really need to find Beth. I have the medicine to make for the weaver’s son.”
“Go. Hunter can stay here with us.” Elaine smiled fondly at him and rubbed the stubble on his head.
Alethia strained the medicinal tea she’d made into an earthenware pitcher and added the dried cranberries. Fragrant steam rose in a cloud as she stirred some honey into the mix. She inhaled deeply before covering the container with a piece of cheesecloth the cook had given her. “Beth, tell the family he should drink this tea as often as he can. If they give him any other fluids, make sure they boil them for at least two minutes first.”
“Aye, milady. I’ll tell them.”
“Oh, and he can eat the berries I added. They’ll help.” She handed the pitcher to Beth before thanking the cook. That chore done, she headed for her room for some much-needed solitude. Hunter returned at exactly the same moment, as if he’d known Alethia would be there. With all the activity surrounding the laird’s trip to London, and the weaver’s son needing tending, they hadn’t had any time for just the two of them. She gave him a quick hug and opened their door.
She sank down onto the bed, and he scrambled up to sit beside her. She sent him pictures from her mind, teaching him the signs to go with them. Hunter learned very quickly, and his questions came fast. Like any small child, he was consumed with curiosity. Besides “I’m hungry,” which seemed to be all the time, “Why?” and “What is it?” made up the bulk of his conversational signing.
Opening herself to the pictures Hunter sent back filled her with joy. She’d never met another person she could do this with. He sent her the image of a baby being nursed in his mother’s arms, and signed the inevitable question.
“What?”
“Mother and child,” she signed back.
He sent her the image of a young woman with sad gray eyes. She had Hunter’s golden brown hair and similar features. A wave of aching loneliness permeated his entire being, and Alethia knew the image belonged to the beloved mother he’d lost.
“I lost my mother and father too,” she signed and sent him pictures of her parents. “I’ll take care of you now. We can take care of each other,” she signed. Hunter climbed into her lap and curled himself against her with a sigh. Eyes stinging, she scooped him into a hug. A knock on the door interrupted the moment. Hastily wiping the tears from her eyes, she called, “Come in.”
Elaine swept into the room, a gown in her arms. “My father and the Douglas men are leaving for London two days hence. There is to be a feast and dancing tonight. You are to play.”
She signed what Elaine had told her to Hunter.
“What do such gestures mean?” Elaine asked, sitting at the foot of the bed.
“We’re talking,” she answered.
“Show me.”
Hunter scrambled over to Elaine and signed his name to her.
“He’s telling you his name is Hunter. Here’s how you spell your name.” She showed her.
Elaine signed her name, then tweaked Hunter’s nose once she’d finished. “Can you say everything this way?”
“Yes, it’s a complete language.”
“Do Malcolm and my father know of this? ’Twould be quite valuable to be able to communicate without sound, I should think.”
“I haven’t spoken to either of them about signing, other than to say I would teach Hunter.”
“Mayhap you should. Och, but I’ve come for another reason. I wondered if you might be able to use this gown. ’Tis too short for me and might suit you.” She held it up.
The gown was a sumptuous dark-green velvet. “It’s lovely, Elaine. You’re a terrible liar though.” She flipped the hem to reveal the crease where the old hem had been before her friend had taken it up.
Elaine laughed. “’Tis not my fault you have the gift of a truth-sayer. I mean for you to have it just the same. The color is perfect for you. Wear it tonight,” she said as she rose to leave, “and wear your hair down.”
The great hall was full to bursting as Malcolm’s clan danced to the music Alethia made with her wee instrument. Robley and Liam accompanied her with bodhran and bagpipes. Malcolm leaned against the wall by the hearth, content to watch. She was a vision in the green velvet gown. It clung to her curves and brought out the chestnut in her hair.
“Malcolm, I would have a word.”
“Mother.” He smiled and moved from the wall. “You look lovely this eve.”
“My thanks. Walk with me outside for a breath of air.” She took his arm. “That’s a good lad.”
It never failed to amuse him. He towered over her and hadn’t been a lad for a long while. Yet she continued to treat him as if he were still a child of eight. Putting his ar
m around her slender shoulders, he steered her through the crowd and outside. “What is it you wish to discuss?”
“Alethia was quite upset with you earlier today. Is it true you won’t allow her to carry a weapon of any kind?”
“Aye.”
“To what end?” She looked up at him, her head tilted in a way he knew well. She’d made up her mind, and he was in for a battle of wills.
“There is much you dinna know. There are things I have told no one.”
“You will tell me.”
He chuckled. “Aye, I will. I ask that you keep it to yourself until such time I am certain any danger has passed.” He waited until she nodded her agreement. “The fortune-teller who sent her to us is the same fortune-teller I saw as a youth. She told me ‘truth’ would save my life, and referred to truth as a ‘her.’ Aleth is Greek for truth. I am certain Alethia is the one the old woman referred to.”
“How can you be certain?”
“True called the gypsy by name, Madame Giselle. ’Tis the same woman.” Malcolm shook his head. “I canna allow her to put herself in harm’s way for my sake. If she is no’ armed, she will be less likely to jump into the fray should the need arise.”
“We’re calling her True now?”
Malcolm shrugged. “’Tis fitting.”
“Is this why you will no’ allow her outside the curtain wall?”
“There are men I trust looking after her within the confines of the bailey and keep.”
“What if harm should find its way to her within our walls? Hugh managed.”
“Aye, and he is gone. Until I know what the threat is, she will remain inside or within my sight. She will be safe.”
“What if saving your life has naught to do with ‘jumping into the fray,’ as you put it?” Lydia argued. “Alethia has already proven herself an able healer. The weaver’s son lives because of her. Mayhap you will fall ill, and she will nurse you back to health.”
The notion had not occurred to him. He groaned in helpless frustration and gripped the hilt of the dagger at his belt. An enemy he could face was one he could fight, but an illness? How could he keep Alethia safe from harm if he were laid low? “Then I shall have to see to it that I don’t fall ill.”
True to the Highlander (The Novels of Loch Moigh) Page 8