Then there was the Sassenach!
Ladybird, ladybird, flee, else the winged hunter transform your destiny. The ancient refrain rolled through her mind unbidden. No! The legend was false, she silently insisted. Or was it?
Overwhelmed by the strain on her emotions, Chandra wanted nothing more than to lash out at someone. “Damn him!” she shouted to the walls, cursing Aleck, cursing the fact that he’d invaded her home. Yet deep inside, she was thankful he had, for Devin still lived. Nevertheless, she resented owing him such gratitude, he being the source of her latest worry; she denounced vehemently, “Damn him to hell!”
Given Cedric’s disposition, that could very well be the Sassenach’s next destination.
Chapter
5
Nerves drawn taut as a harp’s strings, Chandra waited in the yard for her saddled mare to be led from the stables, Montbourne’s stallion alongside it. Her teeth punished her lower lip as she repeatedly reminded herself to be polite to her guardian, else her plan would come to ruin. Positive that their outing would end in failure, she prayed he’d send his regrets. Wrestling a wild boar might prove a far easier task than adopting a civil attitude toward the man. To treat him with anything but contempt when she despised him so was hypocrisy.
“You are a fool, Niece, to ride with the Sassenach alone,” Cedric said, at her side once more to argue his point. “He cannot be trusted, I tell you. How do you know James’s letter is not a forgery or that this Montbourne is who he says? He could be an English mercenary, intent on stealing you away in order to hold you for ransom. By ignoring my warnings, you are giving him license to do precisely that.”
Weary of her uncle’s constant haranguing, his words of doom having attacked her ears off and on for the past quarter hour, Chandra turned on him. “I tell you, naught will happen. We are to ride alone. Were he intending to steal me away, as you imply, do you think he’d leave his men inside these walls? What would be his purpose?”
“He would leave them behind in order that they could strike us down.”
Chandra laughed openly. “Ridiculous, Uncle. They are outnumbered several times over. They could not win were they to fight. Besides, we have no wealth to speak of. What would he hope to gain?” Cedric’s mouth flew open, but Chandra quickly cut him off. “No, Uncle, what you suggest is ludicrous. You are inventing trouble where none exists. James’s letter is genuine. His insignia was affixed in the wax seal, which remained unbroken until I opened it. I am the one who invited the Sassenach to ride with me, not the other way around. Should he decide to accept, you can be assured he knows the consequences were he to do me harm. Our king would not condone such an act.”
“Just the same, I do not trust him.”
Chandra concurred with her uncle’s statement, but to say so aloud would merely give rise to another round of bickering, something she’d rather forgo. Her decision was already made, and even though she would have preferred to have several of her clansmen beside her for security’s sake, she knew Montbourne would have none of it, not unless an equal number of his own men were allowed to join them. The mix would not do, for her concentration would be centered on the group surrounding them. Absorbed in keeping peace, she’d accomplish little. Like it or not, she needed to be alone with the man. Somehow, she had to gain his sympathy. Given his arrogance, she belatedly wondered if he possessed such an emotion at all.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the man of her thoughts exiting the hall, the knight beside him. “Argue with me no more, Uncle, for it is decided. We ride alone. But if it gives you any ease, know that within my boot, I carry a dirk. Should the Sassenach come too close, I shall not hesitate to use it.”
His gaze trained on Chandra and her uncle, Aleck noted the dour look on Cedric’s face. “There appears to be a disagreement between them,” he commented to Sir John. “Something tells me the dispute stems from the fact that his niece and I are to ride unattended.”
The knight chuckled. “Given your notoriety with the opposite sex, I cannot say I fully question the man’s hesitancy on allowing you such freedom. Dare I ask if the girl is at risk?”
Aleck came to an abrupt halt, as did the knight, whereupon the earl cast a harsh eye on his companion. For some reason, he’d taken offense at the man’s question. His reputation was well known: A monk, Aleck definitely was not. But neither was he a connoisseur of innocent young women. “We are not at court, Sir John, where males and females frolic openly, their lewd behavior going unchecked. We are at Lochlaigh Castle,” he said, his tone annoyed. “I know my affairs are reputed to amount to upward of several score—an exaggeration fueled by the gossips. Because of it, I have been termed ‘a womanizer.’ But know this: Summed together, my mistresses have numbered not more than a dozen, and that includes the one who led me into manhood when I was five-and-ten. I am most selective, Sir John, and I can assure you my interests do not lend themselves to unseasoned virgins.” Not after what he’d suffered by way of his late wife! “The Lady Lochlaigh is quite safe with me. Damnation, man, she’s my ward, not my paramour!”
“I ask your pardon, sir,” Sir John stated. “I meant no offense. My words, although spoken carelessly, leapt to mind simply because, by her uncle’s expression, I’d say he trusts you not.”
Aleck viewed Cedric anew. “Aye,” he agreed, “the man is not at all pleased by the arrangement. Make certain when the Lady Lochlaigh and I have left the castle that he does not follow.”
“Be assured he won’t,” Sir John promised.
Noting that the knight seemed suddenly withdrawn, Aleck felt contrite over the fierceness of his attack. Normally he accepted any good-natured teasing that came his way, laughing at himself as loudly as did the others, especially when the jest had to do with his masculine prowess. But for some strange reason, he’d not tolerate any challenge about his intentions toward the Lady Lochlaigh. Whatever its cause, it could not be denied: Aleck had become most protective of his ward.
As the two men approached them, Chandra heard Cedric say: “They conspire, I tell you.”
She closed her eyes and drew a cleansing breath. On its release, some of her mounting anger flowed from her. “’Tis naught but your imagination. Now, make yourself busy and see to the mounts.” With a piercing look, her uncle stalked off toward the stable doors.
“Good morn, milady,” Aleck greeted her, coming up behind Chandra. “Are you ready for our ride?”
Startled, for her attention was riveted to her uncle, Chandra spun round. Captured by his striking blue eyes, she could do naught but stare. Compelling, they were, and as she gazed up at him, she thought she might do anything he asked—anything. Her mind distracted by Cedric’s ravings, she’d had little time to fortify her senses, hence her womanly interest grew. A wide smile spread across his bronzed face, his unblemished skin now radiating a pinkish hue instead of the sickly green she’d grown accustomed to.
Blinking, Chandra knew she must answer. “’Twill be but a moment,” she said, her voice sounding oddly breathless. “As soon as the mounts are ready, we’ll be on our way.”
“Excellent,” Aleck responded, seeming not to notice her reaction. “I am eager to see what awaits us. Perhaps our outing will convince me there is some worth to be found in this otherwise barren wilderness. Based on what I’ve seen so far, I’m at a loss as to why you Scots protect it as fiercely as you do.”
Chandra quickly regained her wits. The man wore his superiority as a pauper would a gold-threaded cloak—the strutting peacock! She wondered if anyone had instructed him on even the most rudimentary manners. Eyeing him closely, she decided that someone had undoubtedly tried, but considering the student, the hapless teacher had been destined to fail. Miserably, at that. Silently dubbing him a buffoon, yet not forgetting why she’d asked him to ride with her, she smiled most civilly. “Since you English think there is no worth to be found in the Highlands, I also am at a loss as to why you continually invade the site. Apparently there is something of value here, else you
’d forever remain on your side of the border.”
Aleck studied her momentarily, only to find he was unable to fault her logic. His deep laughter rumbled forth. “A truce, milady. The day is far too lovely to ruin it with talk of the political intrigues of kings long dead. We will resolve nothing should we attempt it. Although our two countries have warred continually, let there at least be peace between us.”
“Yes, the day is far too lovely.” Her smile widened, for she knew she’d bested him. “Since we both recognize its worth and wish to enjoy it, I shall accept the truce.”
“Then a truce it is.” He glanced around him. “Your cousin, has he recovered?”
“He is feeling far better, but I have ordered him to rest,” she said, feeling certain Devin was watching from his window. “Again, I thank you for your timely intervention.”
“I was glad to be of service. And I thank you for your own intervention,” he said.
Her gaze ran over his damp hair. The color of a raven’s wing, the thick tresses shone like polished ebony in the sunlight. “Then milord’s bath was satisfactory?”
“’Twas far more enjoyable than the first,” he said, reviewing the experience.
At first light, a knock had sounded on his door, and Aleck opened it to see Angus standing on the other side. As the man ambled into the room, two crocks tucked under his meaty arms, three of his clansmen rolled the large tub through the doorway. Seeing Aleck’s frown, the squat man stated: “My chief has instructed that I brings ye this stuff.” He’d thrust the crocks into Aleck’s arms. “This one here”—pointing to the one under Aleck’s right arm—“ye’re to use first. Rub it all over ye, even yer hair. ’Twill burn, but it won’t scar ye none. After ye’ve bathed yerself, put this other stuff on ye.” He’d jabbed the crock under Aleck’s left arm. “’Twill stop the itch. Don’t forget the second, or ye’ll prickle all over.”
“What sort of mischief is your chief up to now?” Aleck had asked, his suspicions rising.
“Ain’t no mischief to it,” the man had snapped, scowling. “’Tis supposed to turn ye back to yer natural color. But if ye enjoys lookin’ like a clump o’ moss, I’ll simply tell her ye refused her charitable offering. It were me, I’d have left ye as ye are.”
The two men had briefly tussled over the crocks, Aleck winning out. “Assist me with my back,” he’d ordered the man, but without result. “Please?”
“Ye’d better take off yer whigmaleerie.” Aleck’s brow had arched. “That ornament round yer neck,” Angus had said, nodding at the medallion. “Else it might turn on ye.” Uncertainty had flickered in Aleck’s eyes. Nevertheless, he’d complied. He’d whipped the chain over his head, then laid it aside. A cold glob of oily paste had hit his skin, and the squat man quickly rubbed it over his back. “Ye can do the rest,” he’d said, standing aside.
As Aleck lathered a generous portion of the pasty substance over his face, hair, neck, and arms, then down his chest to his belly, the whole began to tingle, then burn. His backside, legs, and feet were quickly covered. Straightening, Aleck had grown hesitant. Staring at his private parts, he’d closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The deed was swiftly done. By the time the contents of the last bucket had flowed into the tub, his skin was on fire. He’d nearly dived into the water.
After scrubbing himself from head to toe with soap, he’d stood, rinsing himself with several fresh buckets of water. Once dried, he’d spread the contents of the second crock all over his body. The balm had cooled his skin immediately.
“See,” Angus had said, after helping again with Aleck’s back, “weren’t no mischief to it. Yer soft as a babe and nearly as pink as its wee behind.”
Aleck could readily have disputed the man’s statement about there being “no mischief to it,” but as he thought back on it, the suffering he’d endured was well worth the results. “It was most kind of you to take pity on me,” he said to Chandra, smiling. “By way of your charity, I’ll no longer blend into the trees.”
Chandra’s tinkling laughter filled the air; the sound of it left Aleck feeling oddly affected. “Had you acted in a gentlemanly fashion in the first place,” she said, wishing he’d take pity on her in kind, “you would have suffered none of what you did.”
Staring down into his ward’s upturned face, her extraordinary eyes smiling at him, Aleck experienced a strange stirring deep inside him. Beautiful and innocent, he thought, desirous of threading his fingers through her lustrous hair, its freed length hanging to her waist. Of its own accord, his hand rose. Take hold of yourself, you fool!
Swiftly the wayward urge was checked. To cover his error, Aleck whipped his arm in front of him, posturing a bow. “I promise I shall remain on my best behavior.” The vow was made to her, but meant for him. Then from the corner of his eye, he saw that her uncle had exited the stables. “Our mounts are arriving.”
When Chandra was seated on her mare, Cedric strode to where Aleck’s stallion stood. “Make certain no harm comes to her, Sassenach,” he said, glaring up at Aleck, “or you’ll suffer in the aftermath.”
Aleck spied the hatred in the man’s eyes. “She’ll be kept safe, I assure you.” Resting his arm on the saddle’s pommel, he leaned toward the man. “Just make certain,” he growled in a low voice, so only Cedric could hear, “that you have not contrived against us as we ride this day, or you, Highlander, will suffer far more than I.”
Straightening, Aleck jerked a nod at Sir John, silently reminding the knight to keep an eye on the quarrelsome Scot; then he and his ward rode out through the castle gates.
High on a brae overlooking a small loch, Chandra reined her mare to a halt. She and her guardian had been riding the perimeters of Morgan territory for more than an hour. Most of that time had been spent in silence, the pair speaking only when they’d stopped for Chandra to point out a particular place of interest, explaining its historical significance. Occasionally she directed Montbourne’s attention to the awe-inspiring beauty of the wild and rugged land that he’d said he abhorred, hoping to change his mind. As she studied his handsome profile, his stallion standing shoulder to shoulder with her mare, she wondered if he had.
“Do you still think there is nothing in these northern climes that captures the eye and exalts the soul? Can you not feel the majesty of it?” she asked, her hand sweeping wide above the loch. “Or do you just see an ordinary pool of water, insignificant and dull?”
Aleck could not deny that the view was breathtaking. Like glittering diamonds, rays of sunlight danced atop the deep blue water. A warm wind swept through the pines below, rustling their boughs. Fresh, sweet air lifted from the loch to travel up the hillside and into his lungs. He felt invigorated. “I’ll admit,” he said, turning to Chandra, noting that her eyes were as blue as the water, “this place gives one a feeling of reverence. Its beauty is unsurpassed.” A smile lit Chandra’s face. Entranced by her loveliness, Aleck stood corrected: She was even more magnificent than the view. Mentally shaking himself, he forced himself to examine the loch again. “Shall we take a closer look?”
“Aye,” his ward responded, patting the mare’s neck. “The horses are in need of water. ’Tis as good a place as any.”
Aleck glanced at the trees standing alongside Chandra and himself; he spied a quick movement. A tousle-haired lad, his years no more than two-and-ten, ran through the wood barefoot, dressed only in a saffron shirt. A dead rabbit dangled from his hand. “You have a poacher,” he said, turning his stallion, ready to give chase. “Shall I catch him?”
“No. ’Tis Owen.” She spied her guardian’s questioning look. “Owen—at least, that is what I call him—is mute. He lives in the wood alone.”
“Is he a Morgan?” Aleck asked.
“I don’t think so. He appeared one day, shortly after my father’s death. He shuns people, and very seldom is seen. Whether he is a Morgan or not, he is welcome here. I’ve given orders that no one is to harm him.”
Chandra had tried to make friends with the b
oy, standing face to face with him twice. But he would not respond to her urgings to come live with her at the castle. So, to make certain he was cared for, she left him food, along with various supplies. Someday Owen might answer her overtures of friendship; that was her greatest hope.
“You are generous to a fault,” Aleck commented. “Not everyone would be so kind.”
“Owen is special,” she said. “Shall we see the loch?”
“Aye,” he answered, the boy quickly forgotten.
Leading the way, Chandra directed her mount down the steep incline. Watching her, Aleck felt his admiration grow. Intelligent, cheery, witty, and charming, in many ways she was far older than her years. Yet inside dwelled an impish little girl. To that he could attest!
Unlike the sophisticated Felicia, who was artful, manipulative, and exploitive, his naive young ward, on the whole, remained unspoiled, guileless, and unpretentious. However, by nature of her sex, he knew she was capable of using her feminine wiles, hoping to maneuver him as expertly as she did her horse, to attain what she wanted most. After all, she was a woman.
This outing, he deduced, was meant to foster his compassion and earn his sympathy. Having acquired such, when it came time to select a bridegroom, she could count on his being charitable while making his choice. So far, her plan was working. In good conscience, he refused to encumber her with just anyone. The man clearly needed to be one of exceptional quality, willing to place Chandra’s interests before his own. Pray that he was able to find such a man, Aleck thought. And with haste. For despite his changed opinion about the land of the Scots, its rugged beauty undeniable, he still longed for his beloved England and all that was familiar. He wanted nothing more than to return home.
The mounts finally reached level ground and were allowed full rein. In a quick gallop, the horses headed toward the shoreline, stopping at the water’s edge. Aleck slid from his saddle, his boots striking the stones that littered the area. Reaching up, his long fingers spanned Chandra’s small waist. “Brace yourself,” he said.
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