by Paula Quinn
So what if he had a tendency toward making her sleepy? He was kind to her, and that was more than she could say of any of the king’s other noble guests. “Lord Oxford, I prefer a man who keeps his word over one who polishes his smile before slaying lasses with it.”
When his gaze on her went soft, she cursed inwardly. Mayhap that was not the wisest thing to say to him. He clearly fancied her. How could she tell him she didn’t share his sentiments without crushing what remained of his self-worth?
“Please, call me Henry as I’ve requested of you these many days.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. After a lingering kiss, he looked up at her. “Then I need not worry about him snatching you from me?”
“Of course not. I mean, I am not yers to lose.” She softened her smile in an effort to cushion the blow. “I will think fondly of ye after I return home, as I do all my friends.”
He looked like she’d just told him his father was found dead in the courtyard.
Hell.
“I am not returning home as soon as I had planned and I had hoped ye might teach me more dances.”
“Of course.” He brightened, his hope restored. “And perhaps, if you will continue to grant me your favor, I can win something more.”
Mairi smiled as they reached her room. Hell, it was going to be a very long stay.
“We shall see, my lord.” She gave him a slight pat on the arm, opened her door, and slipped inside before he could say another word. She shut the door and bolted it, not really trusting that he wouldn’t plunge inside after her while she slept.
“What shall ye be seeing?”
Mairi startled and spun around at the sound of her brother’s voice. “Colin, must ye always come up on a person as silently as the wind?”
He held open his arms from where he reclined in a chair by the window. “I was already here. Should I breathe more loudly next time to announce my presence?”
“Aye, ye might.” She sighed and pushed her back off the door. In truth, she was happy to see him. He had taken the detour with Rob and a few others just before her kin’s troupe had reached the English border on their way to James of York’s coronation. She had not seen him in over a pair of weeks and she had missed him. Of her three brothers, she was closest with Colin. They shared much in common, including their loyalty to Scotland, their love of the sword, and secrets too perilous to tell their father.
“What are ye doing in here?”
“I thought ye might like to know how Connor’s meeting went with the king.”
“Thoughtful of ye, since ye have waited three hours to tell me.” She cut across the room and poured them both a cup of water.
He accepted the offering and waited for her to sit down on the bed. “Ye appeared distracted by the same man I assume was just at yer door.”
“The meeting, Colin,” she reminded him, careful not to let him sway the topic toward a more personal direction. Colin possessed an uncanny skill at discerning meanings and expressions without having to hear a confession. If she began speaking of Oxford and his interest in her, her brother would somehow connect her indifference to the English lord to a certain Scottish captain. Colin was the only one who knew the full effect Connor’s betrayal had had on her. He had followed at her side, offering his comfort in silence while she wept. She would not have him think, even for an instant, that Captain Grant still held any influence over her.
“The king requested that I remain with him after Connor gave him the news about the Dutch attack and left his solar.”
Mairi’s brows arched with interest. “James does not trust Connor then?”
Colin narrowed his eyes on her over the rim of his cup. “Why would ye think that?”
“Because Connor served a Protestant king for seven years,” Mairi reminded him, unable to keep the sting from her voice.
Colin smiled, coming to some conclusion Mairi was certain was the incorrect one. “He asked me to remain because he wanted to question me about any survivors at the abbey.”
“Did ye tell him about Miss Montgomery?”
“Nae.” Colin lowered his hazel eyes behind a spray of dark lashes. “But I know now fer certain that she is his daughter. He believes her dead and Rob wants it to remain that way. Our brother suspects her enemies reside here and Connor agrees. We must say nothing. If they know Lady Montgomery didna’ perish in the fire, they will continue to look fer her.”
“Ye told faither Gilles’s men followed yer group to Ayr. So they already know she is alive.”
Colin shook his head. “They dinna’ know fer certain.”
“Och, why did Rob have to bring her home to Camlochlin?”
“Because ’tis the only place she will be safe, Mairi.”
“And if faither is correct and the Dutch attack our home… Colin, we should insist that he allow us to return home with him and the others. I dinna’ want to be here, where ’tis ‘safe.’ I want to fight these enemies—”
“That is precisely why he leaves us here,” her brother told her succinctly. “He suspects our involvement with the rebel militia. He knows we will not cower and hide if the Dutch attack. I know ye hate hearing this, Mairi, but ye are a lass and he—”
“Och, do not say it. Ye know I can fight as well as ye.”
When he tossed her a skeptical glance, she conceded. “Well, better than most then. Ye must tell the king that Davina Montgomery lives. Let him go to Camlochlin to fetch her and hide her away somewhere else. I want to go home.”
“I may tell him,” he confessed, “but not fer that reason. I believe she is safest with our kin and I willna’ jeopardize that. If I tell him, ’twill be because he thinks his daughter is dead and he grieves the same way our own faither would. He has the right to know the truth.”
Mairi smiled at him. “Ye speak as if ye care fer her.”
“Everyone who will ever meet Lady Montgomery will care fer her.”
A cryptic answer. So like Colin to obscure his passion behind ambiguity. No enemy would ever know what he was thinking—another trait she shared in common with him.
“Ye do not mind being here rather than at her side to protect her then?”
“Rob can protect her,” Colin told her quietly. “Besides, I think her faither needs my protection more at present. He is a staunch Catholic, and even though none have voiced their displeasure over that fact as of yet, someone has already attempted to do away with his true firstborn Catholic heir.”
He made a valid point. A rebellion seemed likely. She might not have concerned herself over it if Charles were still king, since he was a Protestant, but, och, to have a Catholic on the throne again…. “What can we do?”
“All we can do at present is keep our eyes and ears alert. Prince William of Orange was most likely behind the attack on the abbey, but the king will not move without proof since guilt could also lie with the Duke of Monmouth or the Earl of Argyll.”
“What does Connor think of all this? He is one of the king’s captains, after all.”
“I am not sure Connor has thought of anything but ye since our journey back to Whitehall together.” When Mairi laughed, Colin silenced her with a serious look. “Sister, I had a chance to speak with him while we traveled here and I think—”
“Please, Colin.” She held up her hand to stop him. “I do not wish to speak of him.”
“Ye didna’ tell me he asked ye to come to England with him.”
“Because I had no intentions on coming here. I didna’ want to live in England. He knew that well enough. What would I ever do here, besides perspire my bloody arse off?” She ignored the slight quirk of his mouth. “Nae, my home is in the Highlands. He made his choice to leave. ’Twas arrogant and heartless of him to ask me to give up the place of my birth, knowing how I love it.”
“He did not mean that the two of ye should remain here fer the remainder of yer lives.”
“Nae?” She sprang from the bed, having heard enough. “Look how long he has remained, Colin. How is it y
e could discover where Cameronians hold their secret meetings but ye dinna’ see that his requests were but a way fer him to escape his guilt over leaving? He asked me to come here knowing I would refuse.”
“Well.” Her brother gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he too rose from his seat to leave. “Ye are stuck here with him until faither sends fer us. Try not to use one of those daggers ye have hidden so cleverly beneath yer skirts on his belly.”
“I cannot promise that,” she told him while he headed for the door. “He tempts me to use my dagger on him just by opening his mouth.”
Colin tossed her one more infuriatingly skeptical glance over his shoulder before he left.
Instead of undressing and going directly to bed, she went to the window and looked out at the dark sky. She scowled at the full, milky moon lighting the courtyard below—the same light that shone on Connor’s face the first time he kissed her beneath the braes of Bla Bheinn, the first time he told her he loved her.
Dear God, she wouldn’t think about it. That period in her life was over. She had moved on.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder where Connor had gone off to tonight. Likely, he’d gone to meet one of his many lovers and was still with her now, kissing her the way he used to kiss… Nae, she did not care.
If she’d accepted Duncan MacKinnon’s marriage proposal last winter, or even Hamish MacLeod’s the year before, she’d likely be in Torrin or Portree instead of here. But she no longer wanted to be a wife, controlled by a man, especially one she did not love.
Her thoughts drifted back to Connor and the question she had asked herself since the day he left.
Would she ever love again?
Chapter Four
Connor leaned against the outside wall and watched quietly while the MacGregors bid farewell to Mairi and Colin. They were truly leaving Mairi here. He should have stayed in Glencoe. He could have told the king that he’d been ambushed on the road, stabbed in the leg and couldn’t make it back for the coronation. Hell, he would have inflicted the wound himself if he’d known she was staying.
He eyed the figure hanging back, just inside the entryway. Oxford. What was going on between them that the man would wait so eagerly for her to be away from her father? Thanks to Tristan, Connor knew that Callum MacGregor didn’t like the Earl of Oxford’s son. In truth, Callum didn’t like most Englishmen. A sentiment Connor thought Mairi shared. He was wrong. When he’d returned to court last eve, she was already gone… and so was her dance partner.
Oxford’s pacing back and forth, along with his peering outside every five breaths, agitated Connor. It was as if he had already laid claim to her.
Like hell he had. Another thought crossed Connor’s mind that darkened the scowl already on his face. Had Oxford kissed her? Had Mairi allowed it? He turned his gaze to her while she embraced her mother. She could not truly care for Henry de Vere. Could she?
“Connor.”
He blinked away from the women to find the MacGregor chief striding toward him. Callum MacGregor hadn’t changed in seven years. He was still big as a mountain and as powerful as a storm. From the corner of his eye, Connor saw Oxford disappear into the shadows. Wise… and rather telling. If there were nothing between him and Mairi, there would be no cause to hide from her disapproving father. Not that Mairi cared overmuch if the laird approved or not. She’d always had her own mind and did as she pleased, most times to prove that she was just as capable as her brothers were in any task they performed. How many trees had she followed him and Tristan up when she was a wee lass, or leaped on a horse that was too big for her, or been caught aiming a bow at the backside of some child who’d slighted her? He almost smiled remembering.
“I have a favor to ask of ye,” her father said, reaching him.
“Ye have but to ask it, my laird.”
“Keep yer eyes on my daughter.”
Anything but that. Connor didn’t want to keep his eyes on her. He wanted to keep them off. He wanted to disappear in the lists, the tavern, any place he wouldn’t have to see her.
“Of course,” he replied dully. “She will be safe here.”
Callum nodded, gave him a hearty pat on the arm, and turned to move away. He paused as a thought occurred to him and came close once again. “She willna’ appreciate my worryin’ over her, so dinna’ tell her of my request, aye?”
“Aye,” Connor promised, albeit grudgingly. Brilliant. She would think he followed her about for some foolish purpose that had nothing to do with her father.
He thought about returning to Glencoe and his post. He could make it back in two days. What could possibly happen to Mairi with his own father here to keep eyes on her?
A movement at the entrance drew his eyes there. Oxford waited like a cat about to pounce. Connor couldn’t really blame the man for wanting to win such a spirited lass. His own gaze returned to her. He understood why any man would want to clutch her to his chest, even while she resisted, and quiet her protests with his lips.
The thought of Oxford kissing her boiled Connor’s blood and made him long to be away from the palace even more than usual.
A short while later, Mairi watched her kin mount their saddles and begin their journey home without her. She didn’t weep—and it was a good thing else Connor might have been tempted to go to her—but she did look miserable enough to make him push off the wall.
Oxford reached her first.
When they turned to head back, Oxford’s arm draped tenderly around her waist, Connor moved toward them. He passed Mairi without a word and took up his pace at his father’s side behind her. He heard his mother say something about tennis but he wasn’t sure what it was. His eyes dipped to Oxford’s arm and he had the urge to rip his claymore from its sheath and cut it from his body.
“Captain.” Two of his men greeted as they passed him, reminding him who he was. He couldn’t go around hacking off English nobles’ limbs. He would keep eyes on her and protect her against an unwanted suitor if he had to, but that was all. He would not lose his control—or anything else—because of her. He pulled his eyes away from her waist and looked to Colin being escorted by two of James’s personal guards toward the stairs.
“He is granted another audience with the king.”
“Aye.” Graham nodded. “Last eve while ye were deep into yer cups, the king made an appearance at our table and told Callum and Kate that when he spoke to Colin earlier he found him to be a refreshing change from the dull, arse-kissing statesmen he was usually forced to tolerate.”
“Did he mention what they spoke about?” Connor asked, returning to his father.
“Nae. Colin has not told ye then?”
“He has not.”
They entered the palace and Connor almost forgot what he was just thinking about when Mairi’s voice fell across his ears.
“Lord Oxford, truly, I am fine, but I think I will retire to my room fer a bit.”
“Let me escort you there.” The arm that Oxford had removed from her waist, returned.
This time, Connor removed it… with his fingers and not his sword, of course. His task was to see to her. That meant her reputation, as well as her safety, and that was all he was doing.
“Miss MacGregor needs no escort.” He certainly hadn’t meant to sound so threatening, but Oxford backed away nonetheless.
Mairi, however, did not.
“Captain,” she said, fisting her small hands at her sides. Their size did not matter, for it was her tongue she wielded so expertly. “Do ye not have a wench to occupy yer attention, instead of aiming it here where it isna’ wanted?”
“Aye.” He offered her a smile riddled with amusement and challenge. “But ye are the only one here at the moment.”
The spark of fire in her eyes tightened his guts, accelerated his heart
“Or mayhap,” she said, smiling back at him, “ye still lack the wits to recognize when ye have been rejected.”
Och, she hated him—and he freely admitted at present that it was his
own fault, but she looked so ravishing standing there pulsing with barely concealed anger that he had to clench his jaw to keep from groaning.
Behind him, his mother cleared her throat and tugged on her husband’s arm to keep him walking.
“Captain Grant, I must insist—”
Connor turned to Oxford and stilled the remainder of his words with a look that pierced as deadly as a sword. When he turned back to Mairi, she was gone.
“Stay here,” he warned Oxford over his shoulder, and took off after her without looking back. He caught up to her as she rounded the hall of the Shield Gallery.
“Where are ye going? Yer lodgings are in the other direction,” he said, slowing his steps at her side.
“I am getting away from ye.” She didn’t look at him but continued on at a brisk pace.
“Has the obvious suddenly escaped yer shrewd attention, Mairi?” He spared her a cool, brief side-glance. “We are stuck here in each other’s company fer a while.”
“Ye can leave.”
He smiled at the delicacy of her profile, even as her words cut his flesh. He was immune to her barbs. At least, he told himself he was. “I cannot leave. Things have changed.”
She stopped suddenly and glared up at him, a tendril of black hair caressing her cheek. “Nothing has changed. Ye remain a heartless, careless wretch.”
For an instant that went completely out of Connor’s control, he was tempted to reach out and touch the familiar curve of her jaw. But he knew that flare in her eyes too well. She would snap his fingers off with her teeth. He didn’t marvel that the thing he found most alluring about her was the very same thing that kept him away from her for so long. Her passion, even in hating him, ignited his desire like a flame to dry timber. It tempted him to take up the fight for what was once his. But only fools continued to fight long after the battle was over.