Highland Guard

by Hannah Howell

  “Is there a lot that must be done?” Annys forced herself to pay heed to the importance of their conversation and not the all-too-welcome warmth of his hand on her arm.

  “Nay, but I fear David was nay interested in making certain the keep was fully prepared for an attack. Weel, I doubt there e’er was one in his life here.”

  “Nay, I dinnae think there was, or, naught of any great consequence. Ye truly believe Sir Adam means to try and take Glencullaich by force, dinnae ye.”

  “I do. There may be time yet that he tries to just keep picking at ye, causing wee troubles here and there that keep ye busy, but I believe that now any of that will be done to slow your preparations to withstand an attack.”

  Once inside the keep, Annys stopped and stepped away from him. The loss of the warmth of his touch caused her to feel a pinch of sorrow, but she clasped her hands in front of her to stop from reaching out to him. What she wanted to do was burrow into his strong arms and hide for a while. She would not, could not, give in to that weakness.

  “Aye, that makes sense. So, best we prepare as soon as can be. I suspect Nicolas needs no direction from me to heed what ye say and we are nay without funds if they are needed. I hate this and, God forgive me, I loathe Sir Adam for bringing us to this, but I will see it done.”

  Harcourt nodded. He could see how troubled she was and admired the way she was looking past her own qualms to do what needed to be done. The temptation to pull her into his arms and offer some comfort was strong, but her stiff posture told him such a gesture would not be welcome. Instead he gave her a small bow.

  “Then I shall set to it, Lady Annys.”

  Annys watched as he walked away. She was both lonely and proud. Proud of herself for being strong but finding that being strong made her loneliness sharper.

  As she made her way to the kitchens to oversee the preparations for the next meal, she finally admitted to herself that she had been lonely since the day he had ridden away from her. Anger and hurt over the way he had not taken even a moment of his time to exchange some private words before leaving had dimmed that sense of loss for a long time.

  It would be all too easy to reach out for Harcourt to ease that loneliness. Annys suspected her people would think nothing of it. There were many small reasons not to do so but the one that truly held her back was the fear of being hurt. The way he had left her without a word after the many times they had been together, the many sweet words he had whispered to her as they had made love, had cut her to the bone. Even knowing he had had no right to claim her, that she could not be with him openly, had not eased her pain. Annys did not think she could survive it a second time.

  Shaking such thoughts from her head, she went to work. Hard work had assisted her in keeping Sir Harcourt Murray out of her thoughts before, when he had walked away from her without looking back. It should be able to do so again even though he was now back within reach.

  Chapter Four

  Annys sat back on her heels and idly tried to rub away the aching twinge in her lower back. Taking advantage of a rare beautiful summer day, she and Joan were carefully tending to the kitchen garden. She had forgotten just how much hard work that was. There was not one part of her that did not ache or feel very dirty.

  “It grows verra warm,” said Joan as she moved to sit next to Annys and wiped the sweat from her face with her apron. “I think I am sweating enough to water the plants. Time to leave the work for the younger lassies.”

  “I prefer to think of myself as one of those younger lassies,” murmured Annys.

  Joan laughed. “Aye, but at times it serves us weel to be older.”

  Annys smiled. “True and there are days when I can feel verra old indeed.”

  A young girl brought them each a tankard of cool cider and Annys thanked her. Since they were at the far edge of the garden, she and Joan moved back a few feet until they were beneath the shade of an old oak tree. It took only moments in the shade, sipping the cool cider, for Annys to begin to feel refreshed. She was just not certain she was refreshed enough to return to working in the garden.

  “Ye are the lady of the keep. Ye dinnae need to do this work if ye dinnae wish to,” Joan said.

  “There are times, Joan, when I think ye can see every thought inside my head.”

  “Nay, I but saw that ye were looking at the garden in the same way I was and I kenned what I was thinking. Decided ye must be feeling the same.”

  “I should nay feel so guilty for wanting to quit it. I have worked here for most of the morning.”

  “Aye, ye ne’er hesitate to get your hands dirty. We all ken it and ye should ne’er feel e’en a pinch of guilt for leaving some of the heavier work to others from time to time. Mayhap ye should wash the dirt and sweat off and go see what your handsome champion is doing. He has been working verra hard these last two days.”

  One glance at the sly smile on Joan’s face was enough to tell Annys what game her maid played. “Ye will nay play the matchmaker, Joan.”

  “Och, I wasnae doing that.”

  Annys did not believe that but asked, “So what were ye doing then?”

  “Weel, ye are a woman alone . . .”

  “A new widow.”

  “The laird, God bless his kind soul, has been gone from us for a long time.”

  “Not that long.”

  “Long enough.” Joan scowled at Annys but then quickly smiled again. “They are all strong, bonnie lads.”

  “Ah, I see. Ye wish me to try them all, aye?” Annys laughed at the look of shock on Joan’s face.

  “Wretched lass. I saw the way that Sir Harcourt looked at you, lass.” Joan lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Remember, I ken who sired our lad and I ken how our laird was ne’er a true husband to you. All I am saying here is that ye might consider finding yourself a wee bit of warmth for once in your life.”

  “David loved me and he treated me verra weel.” Annys hated to hear the hint of defensiveness in her voice.

  Joan patted her hand, which Annys suddenly realized was clenched into a tight fist. “I ken it,” she said. “The mon loved you. Like a sister. It wouldnae hurt you to be treated like the woman ye are for once, however.”

  “And give everyone a chance to begin questioning who truly fathered Benet?”

  “Ah, weel, we have all kenned the truth of that from the verra beginning.” She nodded when Annys stared at her in shock. “We have. I ken ye thought it was just me, and that made ye happy so I let ye think so. But everyone kens it. There were a few weeks where anger at ye ran a wee bit strong in some until we saw how joyful the laird was o’er the coming bairn. Then we began to ken the truth. What afflicted the laird was nay a secret to all of us, ye ken. We just let him think that it was. A secret held by all out of the respect we felt he was due.”

  Annys was not sure how she felt about all that. A part of her was deeply relieved for she had carried the weight of that secret for so long. It was also uncomfortable to know that everyone at Glencullaich knew she had been unfaithful to her husband. It did not really matter that the man had asked her to be just as no one could be certain he had done so. It had all been done very privately.

  “Annys,” Joan said quietly, her lack of formality revealing how concerned she was, “nary a person here has e’er condemned you. It didnae take us long to fully understand what had happened. The laird’s utter joy o’er the bairn told us all we really cared to know. He kenned the bairn wasnae his. Had to, didnae he? Yet naught could hide his delight. We decided he had arranged it all. The way he so proudly named the bairn his son was but another confirmation of that. And we had all worried about the fact that there would be no heir so were pleased to claim the child ourselves, as weel. Wee Benet’s birth saved us from having Sir Adam, or one of his ilk, step in as our laird. Although we didnae expect to lose our laird as soon as we did.”

  “Nay, nor did I, and I begin to believe we shouldnae have. Ye heard all that Sir Callum said, and he suspects a poisoning. I didnae want t
o consider it then but I have been doing so, and now I believe he may be right. Someone at Glencullaich helped Sir Adam kill our laird.”

  Joan cursed and took a deep drink of cider. “Who?”

  “I dinnae ken.” Annys sighed. “I still struggle to understand it e’en though I believe that is what happened. What Sir Callum said held the ring of truth and I ken that he has a verra sharp wit, yet I cannae think of any of our people who would e’er help Adam. And most certainly nary a one who would help him kill David.”

  “Nor can I.” Joan muttered a curse. “If I find one helping that bastard, ye willnae have to fret o’er them betraying us again. I promise ye that.”

  “So bloodthirsty,” Annys murmured, a little amused by Joan’s ferocity.

  “I feel so when I think on it. The laird was taken from us much too soon. If one of our own sent him off to an early grave then I will be verra pleased to see to it that they rot in hell.”

  This time Annys was stunned by the fury in Joan’s voice. The woman actually trembled from the strength of it. She knew all of the people of Glencullaich had cared for their laird but she now had to wonder if her maid, her dearest friend, had cared far more than most, more than as a sister cares for her sibling.

  “Joan? Did ye love David?” she asked, keeping her tone of voice as soft and gentle as she could.

  “Of course I did. He was my laird.” She looked at Annys and briefly laughed. “Och, nay as ye are now thinking. Nay, there was no lust in my love for David, no fire in the blood. I thought ye kenned my love was that of a friend, e’en of a sister.”

  “I did but, for just a moment, I thought I may have been wrong.”

  “Nay. I have a few years on ye, m’lady, and ken weel what a gift Sir David was, what a good mon and good laird. A rare thing, and trust me to ken the truth of that. If some fool nudged that good, kind mon into an early grave to please that bastard Sir Adam or gain a few coins for their purse, they didnae just betray the laird. Or ye. They betrayed every mon, woman, and child in Glencullaich.”

  Annys nodded slowly as she considered those words. “Aye, that is exactly what they did.” She sighed. “Weel, unless someone wishes to come forth and confess all, we shall ne’er ken the truth. Aye, poisoning makes sense to me, explains so much about David’s illness that I just couldnae understand, but proving it now that David is dead and buried is impossible. Och, we could only have proven it when he was alive by the way he would have been cured or by catching the one who did it slipping the poison into his food or drink.”

  “I will still watch closely for the one who may have done it. If that one could kill a good mon for that wretched Sir Adam, who kens what else the bastard is capable of?”

  “True. I will watch as weel although I think ye will have better luck because ye are nay the laird’s wife. I but appear and whoe’er did this will be fully on his guard.”

  “I am nay so far from being treated the same, but I ken better who to trust amongst the ones who would have had the chance to do it. I ken better who to watch as weel.”

  “Do ye have some suspicions, Joan?”

  “I cannae think of one amongst the men but there is a lass or two I will be watching. I think that is where the danger is. Some fool lass who believes herself in love or enough so that she heeds every lie told her by Sir Adam or one of his men.”

  Annys was choked by sadness for a moment. It was not just because David had been murdered by one of his own people, people he had treated well, but it could have been the result of some foolish young woman’s seduction. How anyone at Glencullaich could ever believe that David deserved the painful, lingering death he had suffered, no matter what some handsome man promised, she did not know. Nor could she think of any woman at the keep who could be so easily swayed by some man’s lies.

  “It is too sad to think on,” she murmured. “Poor David ne’er did anything that would make anyone here think him so bad that he deserved that death.”

  “Some lasses can believe anything if the mon they desire tells them it. But, aye, it is unbearably sad that our laird would die because one lass is too witless to ken what are lies and what is truth. Whene’er I think on it, I want to beat the guilty one until they are naught but a pile of shattered bone.”

  “Find her, Joan. Or him, although I believe ye are right in what ye think concerning the killer.”

  “I will and I swear I will nay kill her but bring her to face justice.”

  “Good. I truly need to hear the why nay matter how witless it may prove to be.

  “There are times when I dearly wish Nigel didnae die o’er there in France, and nay just because he was also too young to die. But I would have wed with him as I was supposed to, David would still live, and”—she lowered her voice—“I wouldnae be part of a plan to deny a verra good mon his son.”

  “True enough but ye wouldnae have Benet now, either, would ye?”

  Annys softly cursed. “Nay, I wouldnae and I would ne’er wish him gone. Weel, with that thought in my head, I will now go and clean up. Mayhap see what is being done with our defenses,” she said as she stood up and brushed off her skirts.

  “The men are verra pleased with all the training they are getting for all they like to groan and complain about the work and the bruises. We have been blessed in how peaceful we have had it here but this trouble has let us see that we have let that blessing make us soft. We willnae be any longer.”

  “That is a comfort. One has to wonder what sorts of life Sir Harcourt and the others have led, however, that has made them so knowledgeable about good fighting and good defenses.”

  “Just one that was lived in a place which isnae so cleverly out of sight as we are. Go on, I will direct the lasses in finishing the work.”

  Annys left Joan to order the younger women around, something she knew her maid got a great deal of pleasure out of doing. Although everyone called Annys my lady, she was not so vain as to think that meant that she actually held all the power at Glencullaich. Joan held a lot of it in her work-worn hands as well.

  Ordering some heated water on her way up to her bedchamber, Annys began to wonder if Joan would be able to find the one who killed David. She was not even certain how one could winnow the guilty out of the herd. The killer had escaped any justice for months, escaped even being caught as she killed her laird. That amount of cleverness did not match with the image of some silly love-stricken lass doing anything her lover asked.

  Then again, she mused as she let in the young girl bringing her the heated water to wash with, just how clever does one have to be to use poison? The moment the girl left, Annys shed her clothes and washed off the sweat and dirt she had collected while working in the garden all the while pondering that question. It was one she should have asked Harcourt, she thought.

  Dealing with murder, betrayal, and deceit was not something she felt confident to do. She had never dealt with such things before. The men now training her men and shoring up Glencullaich’s defense showed they had lived a harder life, one touched by such darkness as battle. Sir Callum knowing about poisoning as well as the lack of shock on the faces of the other men as he explained to her about his cousin, told her they probably all knew a lot more about murder than she did. Determined to speak to one of them, she quickly dressed and hurried out of her bedchamber only to meet up with Harcourt right outside her door.

  Harcourt caught her by the shoulders before she ran into him. He had come to ask her about getting some supplies and if the recommendations her men had given him were of people she wanted to deal with. The questions were now stuck in his mouth as he stood so close to her he could smell her freshly washed skin. It was an achingly familiar scent, despite the years they had been apart, for he had often scented it when his mind had returned to the time they had been lovers. Worse, whenever he had caught a similar scent in the air, he had been taken back to that time by the river and the feel of Annys in his arms.

  He was going to kiss her, he decided as he gently nudged her back unt
il she was pressed against the door. It was something he had been aching to do from the moment he had seen her again after so many years. All he had to do was catch a glimpse of her hair as she walked across the bailey and memories of the times they had been together flooded his mind. If nothing else, he needed to know if his memories were true, if she truly tasted as sweet as he remembered.

  “Harcourt,” she said, the tone of her voice hinting at the protest she was about to make.

  “Hush. I but seek to discover if my memories are true ones.”

  Before she could ask what he meant by that, his mouth was on hers. The touch of his lips on hers sent heat flaring through her body so quickly, Annys gasped from the shock of it. Harcourt took quick advantage of her parted lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. The abrupt increased intimacy of the kiss only added to the fever of need possessing her. Annys flung her arms around his neck, pressing her body close to his, as he stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue. Each stroke sent heat straight to her loins.

  She wanted to wrap her whole body around his. She wanted to feel his skin beneath her hands, rubbing against hers as they clung to each other while naked as the day they were born. She wanted to be surrounded by his heat. She could feel his hardness pressed against her and she wanted him inside her.

  It was the strength of that desperation that finally pulled Annys free of the frantic need his kiss inspired. It was so fierce, so sudden, that it frightened her a little. She put her hands against his chest and pushed even as she tore her mouth away from his. The dazed look upon his face both pleased and worried her, especially since she suspected she looked much the same. It was all too much, she thought. Too strong, too overpowering, too mindless. Annys had little doubt that, if she had not come to her senses, they would have ended up coupling against the wall right there, in the hall, where anyone could see them. She certainly had not had the willpower to put a stop to it while caught in the power of his kiss.

  “Annys,” he said as he struggled to catch his breath.