‘It isn’t the best comparison, I’ll admit, but I promise I will see you are safe.’
‘Then I thank you for your offer of aid. I accept.’ She smiled and her cheeks dimpled. ‘I promise I won’t howl in the night.’
Implying she would not need to be taken into his bed? He wondered if she was deliberately making the comparison so that he did not start to harbour any expectations. From the way she shut her mouth firmly and her cheeks took on a blush of rose that matched her lips he suspected she had just realised what she had said and had not fully thought of it. Now he was unable to rid himself of the image of her in his bed, eyes glowing in ecstasy and emitting a high-pitched howl of pleasure as he coaxed her to the brink of reason.
‘We need to make a start if we’re to put distance between us and Duncan McCrieff.’ He stood jerkily and held a hand out to help her rise. She ignored it and rose without help, patting her skirts down briskly.
‘What happened to your dog?’ she asked. ‘Do you still have him?’
‘This was almost twenty years ago, my lady! He ran off when the blood rose in him and fathered half the strays in Kilmachrie.’ Ewan grinned. He held an arm out for her to take. ‘But I loved him and looked after him until he left of his own accord.’
‘I promise also that I will not stay for twenty years,’ she said. She dipped her head and slipped her arm under his, and Ewan had to stop from blurting out she would be more than welcome to do so.
They walked back to the cart and Ewan told his men what he had decided. The look on Angus’s face was fearsome and Ewan felt Mademoiselle Vallon draw back. A talk with Angus was long overdue. He ran his eyes over her, taking in the rich cloth and the fine nap of her cloak.
‘Even without your white gown you stand out. We’d better find you something better to wear,’ he said. ‘Jamie, take Mademoiselle Vallon with you and see if you can find something more suitable for travelling. Buy food for the four of us for the next day or two while you’re gone.’
He reached for his purse, but found her hand on his forearm. Cold and slight, her touch seared his bare skin nevertheless. He looked into her eyes and saw the determination he was beginning to recognise.
‘I do not need your money. I will buy what we need.’
Grudgingly impressed, he passed her into Jamie’s care and watched them head off into the crowd, two young people talking together. His twenty-six years felt like a century on his shoulders. He wondered if Marguerite saw him as aged as Duncan. He wondered why he cared.
Angus was frowning. ‘One night, you said. One night with the woman. Now we’ll have her on our hands until Lochmore Castle. What were ye thinking? What did the two of you do last night for her to have such a claim on you?’
Nowhere near what he had wanted to! Ewan couldn’t shake the memory of the way their bodies had cleaved so perfectly as they slept and had spent the journey to Druinunn burning with curiosity to discover how well other parts of their anatomies would suit each other. A slight resentment that he had not even as much as tried to kiss her fired his temper. He would tolerate a great deal of impudence from Angus, but the slur on his character and Mademoiselle Vallon’s reputation would not go unchallenged.
‘Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to, Angus?’ Ewan spoke sharply. He raised his chin and placed his feet apart, adopting the pose Hamish used to take. ‘I am Earl of Lochmore and my decisions will not be questioned.’
Angus turned crimson. His fists clenched and Ewan half-expected he would storm off, or worse, deliver one of the blows with his forehead that could stun a man half his age. He’d received the back of Angus’s hand in childhood often enough when he’d been caught disobeying rules, but he was not a child now and he was Angus’s laird.
Ewan held his stance, despite the tension that raced through him. It was the first time he had called Angus to heel and the first time Angus had openly contradicted him. His father would have expected unquestioning obedience from his clan and wouldn’t have been past knocking a couple of heads together to make his point. But Ewan wasn’t his father and hadn’t yet earned that right. He dropped his pose a little into a slightly less challenging stance.
‘I would welcome your counsel, however, my old friend.’
Angus nodded slowly and Ewan observed a hint of approval and respect bloom in his eyes. ‘Aye, my lord. I forget myself. I beg your forgiveness.’
‘You have it.’ Ewan held a hand out to Angus, who clasped it firmly and bowed his head. Ewan was aware he had passed some unspoken test.
‘In truth, it isn’t anything I planned or wanted, but I have taken Mademoiselle Vallon under my protection.’ He sighed.
‘Why did ye do it?’ Angus asked. ‘I’m no’ questioning your decision, just curious. You could have sent her back with that McCrieff cur and put him in our debt.’
‘Hardly honourable behaviour,’ Ewan said, frowning. ‘You heard McCrieff bluster and threaten, but you didn’t see her fear.’
Or feel the trembling of her slight frame when she beseeched me so plaintively, he added privately. He shook himself free of the memory of Marguerite Vallon almost swooning against him in the alleyway, with her black eyes piercing him in desperate appeal.
Angus gave him a leering smile. ‘An earl needs a countess, I suppose. Stealing a McCrieff bride would see you pass into clan legend and would seal your reputation.’
‘I don’t intend to marry the lass!’ Ewan exclaimed. He’d bed her quicker than a click of the fingers if he’d met her in one of Glasgow’s taverns and she was not a McCrieff’s woman.
‘Whatever he said to her must have been terrible if it caused her to take such drastic measures. I’m not sure he believed I’m not involved. I fear he might return or send watchers. He might not start a fight in the middle of a town, but in the wild I doubt he’d hesitate.’
‘Aye, he could. It’s risky for us all now if he does. I dinnae like it, but you’re Laird and I’ll abide by your will.’ Angus drew his lips back in what could pass for a smile. ‘I suppose hiding her under the sacking in the cart isnae acceptable.’
Ewan grinned. ‘Sadly not. I think we must treat her with a little more courtesy than that. She already thinks us savages and I’d rather not confirm it.’
‘Why do you care? You’ll be rid of her before long.’ Angus scowled.
Ewan didn’t answer. He shouldn’t care what she thought, but the warmth that had glowed in her eyes when she praised his cunning at fooling Duncan McCrieff had made him rejoice. While he was riddled with uncertainty over whether or not he would be accepted by the Lochmore clan, Mademoiselle Vallon had placed her trust in him. He was determined to prove that faith was not misplaced and he wanted see that expression again as it had caused his heart to miss a beat.
‘Well, perhaps not quickly enough,’ Angus continued. ‘You wanted to be home quickly and now we’re tasked with travelling at a speed a woman can sustain. A woman like her will be too frail to travel far each day.’
‘She’ll have to manage,’ Ewan said with a shrug. He frowned. ‘I should have told Jamie to buy velvet cushions and silk hangings to keep her happy. She’ll no doubt be wanting fine trappings as she travels, a genteel lady used to the court.’
‘No, I won’t!’
Ewan started as her voice came indignantly beside him. Jamie and Mademoiselle Vallon were standing close by. She held a large bundle beneath her arm. She swept closer and stared at Ewan. Her eyes blazed and her cheeks were red. Ewan wondered how long they had been there and if she had heard their exchange regarding marriage.
‘Remember, my lord, I slept for a night in your cart among your luggage and another on the ground. I need no fine carriage or feather bolster. You do me a disservice to imagine I would scorn your kind offer so insultingly.’
She rummaged in her bag and held out a handful of coins, some copper pennies and some silver placks.
‘I told you already to keep your money,’ Ewan snapped.
‘No. I wish to pay. You said I would be your guest, but if that is how you mock your guests I reject your hospitality. I will pay you for your troubles or I shall walk away now.’
Her jaw jutted forward and she looked angrier than Ewan had seen her before. He remembered the sturdy boots she wore beneath the elegant gown, the way she had tramped after him around the grounds of Stirling Castle and the fact that she knew how to light a fire. The delicate and refined blossom was tougher than he had presumed on first meeting and he had insulted her more than he intended.
He had no intention of taking her money, but he wasn’t prepared to argue over it now. ‘Very well. But I’ll take them on the understanding I’m your bodyguard, not your servant.’
He picked out a few of the coins, leaving her two of the placks and something that must be French he didn’t recognise. He slipped them into the deerskin scrip that hung from his belt. She’d get them back when they reached Lochmore Castle.
He switched to French to answer her so they could speak privately.
‘Forgive our mockery, but do you understand how you’ll be travelling? We have almost a hundred miles to go. It won’t be easy. As we get further from Stirling the land becomes harder and settlements further apart. We might well end up sleeping under the stars again and the weather can be crueller than it has been.’
Trepidation crossed her face. She drew her hands beneath her cloak and glanced down at her feet, but looked back at Ewan so quickly he’d not had time to take his eyes off her. She fixed him with a look that almost stopped his heart in its intensity. Her expressive eyes were black coals that burned with an internal fire. Her lips were an asymmetrical bud of deep red that called out to be kissed. Fingers of flame danced over Ewan’s flesh, caressing his neck and working down across his spine and belly. He reached out to touch her shoulder and draw her to him, but she pulled away, tossing her heavy black hair behind her.
‘I do not care about hardship. I will sleep under the sky and walk the whole way across your mountains if necessary. I would walk five hundred miles to escape my marriage. I would walk double that!’
‘You won’t have to go that far,’ Ewan said gently. She’d given him an idea though.
‘Can ye ride a horse?’
‘With ease.’ Her uneven mouth widened into a smile that transformed her from the frightened girl into a woman of stunning beauty. Aware that Angus and Jamie were watching the exchange but unable to follow it, Ewan switched language.
‘We don’t want to risk Duncan McCrieff coming back and meeting us. Angus and Jamie, you will travel along the main road with the cart as planned. Mademoiselle Vallon and I will take a different route across the country. We’ll travel by horseback.’
He gave her a smile. ‘We’ll be quicker that way and if your betrothed comes looking for you again he will not find us.’
Mademoiselle Vallon shook her head, her eyes growing wide with shock. She clutched her bundle to her chest and bowed her head modestly. ‘Lord Glenarris, I cannot travel alone with you. That would not be respectable.’
‘But travelling with three men ye don’t know would be,’ Angus growled. She shot him a look of dislike.
‘Angus, go see if you can buy a horse suitable for a woman to ride,’ Ewan instructed, keen to part Angus and Mademoiselle Vallon as soon as possible. ‘Be quick, I want to be gone before noon.’
‘Wait!’ Mademoiselle Vallon reached into her bag once more. She drew out a small wooden casket and opened it. Ewan caught a glint of gold and a flash of ruby before she snapped the lid shut and wondered what she had in it. She held out a silver ring with a pearl set into the centre.
‘Will this pay for a horse?’
Angus and Ewan exchanged looks while Jamie whistled in surprise.
‘It’ll more than pay, but it’ll draw enough attention that if your betrothed comes back and asks someone will remember it. I suppose that canna be helped, though.’
Angus stalked off.
‘I wanted to hire a woman as well,’ Mademoiselle Vallon said. ‘I need a maid.’
Or a chaperon. Ewan shook his head. ‘That’d be harder to come by than a horse. Slower to travel as well.’
She looked nervous, drawing her cloak close around herself and stepping away. She was reluctant to travel alone with him. That was fair enough. He didn’t particularly wish to be alone with her again either.
Because, since waking with her in his arms, he very much did: alone and somewhere private, preferably with a good mattress and feather bolsters and an afternoon to spare. Not his woman and not his right.
‘Given that you’ve already run away from your marriage, I doubt you’re too concerned with your reputation. I have already told you I have no intention of touching, you so your virtue is safe. If anyone questions us we’ll say you’re my sister.’
She gathered her raven locks into a bunch and twisted it about her hands, then pointed to Ewan’s light brown hair. ‘I do not think we look like brother and sister.’
Ewan rolled his eyes, growing tired of her protests to what seemed to be a perfectly sensible solution. ‘Then I’ll say you’re the unspeakably expensive French whore I’ve purchased,’ he snapped. ‘Will that satisfy you?’
A look of disgust passed over her face before she lifted her head. Her eyes were flint. ‘If you intend to mock or shame me you’re wasting your time. Say what you choose, my lord. Just ensure we travel away from Stirling and Duncan McCrieff. That is what I am paying you for after all.’
Ewan ground his teeth. He filled the time waiting for Angus to return by packing a pannier with clothing and food. A sheepskin might provide shelter so he strapped it to the back of his saddle and belatedly added a cooking pot. As he unlocked the chain-bound chest that contained his books and valuables, he sensed Mademoiselle Vallon peering over his shoulder.
‘You have books? What are they?’
Books he had no use for now he had left Glasgow and the law behind him. He twisted his head round to see her face lit with interest. Maybe she was surprised he could read at all. He shut the lid with a bang. He’d escort her and take her money—or at least pretend to—but he wasn’t intending to share any of himself with her.
‘Did I ask what you have in your bag? No. So don’t pry into my affairs.’
They stared at each other in silence, animosity heavy in the air until Angus returned leading a sturdy black pony with three white fetlocks and a tangled black mane.
‘The best I could do,’ he said with a shrug.
The pony had wild eyes and a beaten old saddle, but Mademoiselle Vallon apparently didn’t care. She took the reins from Angus’s hand, thanked him and swung herself into the saddle, sitting astride. She stared down at Ewan, rearranging her skirts modestly.
‘Shall we go, Lord Glenarris?’
He nodded curtly, bidding farewell to Angus and Jamie. Side by side in silence he and Mademoiselle Vallon trotted out of town and towards the hills. It would be a long few days before they reached Lochmore Castle and as far as Ewan was concerned they could not pass quickly enough.
Chapter Eleven
Travelling in the wrong direction, on an obstinate pony, in the company of a silent and surly man was not part of Marguerite’s plan. Lord Glenarris rode beside her, but she might as well have been travelling alone for all the company he was. He sat back in the saddle, his posture relaxed as the great black horse moved beneath him. All signs of the well-dressed nobleman she had encountered in Stirling were gone. His immense gathered brat hung carelessly from his shoulder, revealing the plain jerkin and yellow linen shirt he wore beneath. It almost hid his legs completely where the hem swung down low below his waist, but occasionally Marguerite caught a glimpse of laced boots and long, well-shaped legs.
She spoke to him once or twice, but his answers were short and brisk.
His eyes never met hers and his face was solemn. He wore a sword buckled to his waist along with a curious-looking dagger that added to the sense of wildness. Daunted, she did not dare make any further attempts at conversation, but kept her eyes on the route they were taking away from the town and high into the hills. At least with every curve of the road they were getting further from the likelihood of Duncan finding them.
It seemed unlikely anyone would find them, given the scarcity of villages and the increasing wilderness. The road became a track, the track a path and sometimes barely that. Marguerite rode in silence and looked at the country that seemed an unending landscape of steep hills with dark pine trees in thick clusters.
* * *
It was almost sunset, but they were still not in sight of a village and Marguerite began to fear another night in the open. For all her boasting of being willing to sleep under the stars, a bed would have been welcome.
‘There!’
It was the first time Lord Glenarris had spoken to her all the long afternoon and the sharp exclamation made her jump. Her heels dug into the pony’s belly, causing him to toss his head in protest and flinch. Lord Glenarris reached down and took hold of the bridle to steady the pony, hushing it. He ran his hand over its forelock and back down the mane just as Marguerite reached out to stroke up its neck. Their fingers brushed and for a brief instant Lord Glenarris’s ran over Marguerite’s, covering her hand. He made eye contact for the first time since leaving Druinunn, holding her gaze with an expression that sent her stomach plunging down inside her.
‘Have ye thought of a name for that beast?’ he asked.
‘Grincheux,’ she replied. ‘It means grumpy.’ The name would equally well have applied to her human companion. She kept the thought to herself.
‘Are ye tired?’
Marguerite thought about claiming that she could ride for hours more, but he might take her at her word and sense won out.
‘Yes.’
Lord Glenarris rose in his saddle and leaned towards her, pointing ahead and down the hill. ‘We’re nearly where we’ll spend the night.’
A Runaway Bride for the Highlander Page 11