The Highlander’s Angel

by Lee, Caroline

  When Honor whined again, Ross slowed his horse, wondering how long he could let the animal suffer before saying something to her. But he saw Court shake her head a bit then.

  “Yer beast likes to complain.”

  He couldn’t stop the faint chuckle which escaped his lips. Complain?

  The dog had been trained as a hunting companion and understood commands. Honor also knew how to remain silent, so a whine or two wasn’t worth noting.

  “He’s tired,” Ross told her, hoping she would take the hint.

  “Hmm.” She straightened and moved one arm, stretching it out, then back. He imagined he could hear her joints popping, even as her horse continued to pick its way along the road. “ ’Twas a long day.”

  It wasn’t what he’d been hoping to hear, but Ross kept his mouth shut and one eye on his dog.

  “Tell me about the beast.”

  He frowned at her back, wondering if he’d misheard her. “Honor?”

  “Aye.”

  It was the first time she’d asked anything personal of him. Well, the first since his return yesterday.

  Had it really only been yesterday morning the two of them had stopped the assassin?

  When they’d learned of their new assignment?

  Mayhap this would be his chance to defend Lachlan, while at the same time, answering her question. But he would do it as quickly as he could, for Honor’s sake.

  He took a deep breath. “Michael Fraser of Lovat had four sons—”

  “He’s the one who supported Red Comyn against the Bruce?”

  “Aye. As ye ken, Comyn had many supporters in his claim to the Scottish throne. The Fraser lands are west of the Comyns’, and even after Red Comyn’s death at King Robert’s hands, Michael Fraser never wavered in his support.”

  It was common knowledge the elder Fraser of Lovat hadn’t wanted Robert the Bruce on the throne of Scotland, but at least he’d championed Scottish independence. Knowing it would make his clan sound treasonous, Ross still admitted the truth.

  “Although the Bruce granted him lands after Bannockburn, he never liked the old Fraser laird. Before his death, Michael’s younger brother disappeared, so his eldest son Hamish was next to become laird. Michael’s second son was already dead, and the fourth son had disappeared long ago. So when Hamish died without heirs, the third son took the position.”

  “Lachlan?”

  “Aye.” If she wanted to chat, he’d oblige her, since it didn’t appear as if they’d be stopping anytime soon. As Ross flicked a glance at his dog, he was sure they’d all be able to last at least a few more miles. “When I left to join Liam Bruce’s ranks to protect the King and Queen, he was a lad. Hellfire, I was still a lad.” He shook his head, remembering how young he’d been. “But being thrust into fire—and that family was definitely an inferno—has a way of hardening a man. When he called me back to serve him, the Bruce let me go—being the honorable man he is—to attend to my first sworn duty.”

  They rode in silence a few more minutes, before her horse began to slow. When he was even with her, she nudged hers into a walk again, so they were side by side.

  “And the pup?” she prompted, without looking at him.

  Ross glanced down to where her knee nearly brushed against his. He remembered the way she’d looked, naked and glorious, as she straddled him. God’s Blood, but she was a fine figure of a woman; strong and determined, and well aware of what she liked.

  He bid his cock to behave, and cleared his throat. “Lachlan had him waiting for me. The wee beastie was already being trained, and was quite valuable. My laird told me he kenned how hard it’d be to leave my position and friends to return to help him, and I ought to be compensated.”

  A little dismissive noise came from her. “He thought ye needed payment for doing yer duty?”

  “He thought I needed a reminder of why I was doing it.”

  She didn’t reply for a long while. Finally, she blew out a breath. “Honor.”

  The dog whined in response to his name, at the same time Ross grunted, “Aye.”

  “Ye ken Lachlan well enough. Ye think there’s nae way he could have aught to do with that assassination?”

  Ross forced himself to think objectively. He’d known Lachlan for most of his life, but he also knew what kind of force Michael Fraser had been.

  “I ken he’s a good man,” he began cautiously, “who values loyalty and honor.”

  “Aye, but loyalty to whom?”

  His lips tightened as he considered. Lachlan had been pleased to have been invited to Scone to address the Queen, and had often spoke glowingly of the Bruce and his accomplishments. But it was no secret his own father—and likely Hamish, his brother—had been Comyn supporters. The Comyn lands were near the Frasers’ of Lovat, and the two clans had more than a little shared history between them.

  And that was the answer to her question, now that he thought of it. “Loyalty to his clan.” He was able to say this with absolute certainty. “Lachlan wants what is best for the Frasers, and he often says a free Scotland is best for everyone.”

  “But is what’s best for the Frasers best for Queen Elizabeth?”

  There was no way Ross could see how it wouldn’t be, but he had to admit he couldn’t say so with absolute certainty.

  How would the Queen’s death possibly benefit the Frasers?

  He blew out a breath just as his dog whined in complaint once more. “I donae ken.”

  They were almost through the valley, each lost in their own thoughts, when Honor sat on his haunches and woofed at Ross. The man twisted in his seat, saw the dog’s outright protest at taking even one more step, and had to chuckle.

  “Aye, I ken ye’re tired, Honor.”

  Court pulled her horse to a stop. “I feel bad pushing the animals this far, but I kenned ‘twas better to do so while the weather and roads were good.”

  Surprised at her willingness to explain herself and her actions, Ross pushed himself upright in the stirrups, stretching his legs. “Are we stopping then?”

  She glanced down the road once more, then shrugged. “Aye, we might as well. Unless ye had yer heart set on a soft bed? If so, we could push on to Balquhidder.”

  “Nay, donae push for me. I’m a simple man, content with my kilt, and my dog, to warm me.”

  He saw her glance in his direction as she swung down. “Lucky ye.”

  “I could let ye borrow Honor, if ye’d like”

  It was a moment too long before she said, though speaking to her saddle ties, “Nay, but my thanks.”

  The night was warm enough, and already so late, they didn’t bother with a fire. They staked the grateful horses near a small stream and a large patch of grass, fed and watered Honor, and were soon eating dried meat and hard cheese in companionable silence.

  Ross didn’t mind chatter, but he’d been on enough missions of his own to know he valued silence as well. Especially the quiet of a smooth camp, shared with men whose abilities he trusted.

  It was a little bit of a surprise to realize he felt the same about Court.

  Honor was just finishing wolfing down his supper—and Ross noted he’d have to hunt no later than tomorrow evening, if they didn’t stop for supplies, judging by how much the beast was eating—when Ross glanced up. Dropping the last of his cheese for his dog, he slowly rose to his feet.

  There, just peeking over the rise of the next mountain, was the most brilliant full moon. It was huge and perfect and bright, and growing larger by the moment. He guessed it was only the angle which made the thing look so big, and as the night progressed, it would likely appear normal once more…but still, it was breathtaking.

  He stood there, his hands on his hips, his head cocked back, as he watched the moon grow. It was moments such as this when a man could really believe God and his angels were watching over him.

  That thought reminded him of a particular angel he already knew.

  He glanced over at Court, and his breath was stolen from him.


  She was standing in much the same position—head thrown back, hands on hips—gazing up at the proof of the Almighty’s majesty and power.

  But what had startled him, and pleased him so much, was the fact she was smiling.

  In all the time he’d known her, he could count on one hand the times he’d seen her truly smile…and none of them had been for him, no matter their history.

  Behind him, the moon rose, and she watched it, as he watched her.

  Finally, she exhaled softly and shook her head, only to freeze when she realized he was looking at her. “Why are ye smiling like that?”

  He was smiling? “Like what?”

  “All…” She waved her hand, even as she turned back to her saddle bags. “Besotted-like.”

  “ ’Tis a beautiful scene.”

  “The moon?” She snatched up her blanket and straightened, before turning back to him and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Aye.”

  “Nay, no’ the moon,” he said softly, still staring at her. “Ye never smile.”

  She frowned.

  “See?” He chuckled, then reached for an extra length of his own Fraser plaid. “Watching yer smile was worth no’ seeing the moon rise.”

  She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, her gaze still on him. She seemed…confused.

  Did she not understand what he meant? Mayhap she didn’t.

  With a self-deprecating chuckle, he crossed to a mound of boulders he’d noted earlier. “Get some sleep, Court,” he called over his shoulder, even as he searched for the best perch. “I’ll take first watch and wake ye for the second.”

  “Ye swear?”

  “I swear.” He settled into his spot and raised a brow at her, although he doubted she’d see it. “I’ll no’ coddle ye just because ye’re a woman.”

  Still frowning, she sank cross-legged to the ground. “Nay,” she said with a yawn, even as she made herself comfortable on her side. “We women have to work twice as hard to get the same respect.”

  He snorted, although she was likely right. He’d never worked beside a woman before, but was finding he didn’t mind. He waited until she’d stopped tossing and had found her spot for the night, before giving a low whistle the dog would recognize.

  “Honor,” he said in a whisper. “Protect.”

  When he pointed, the dog understood. There was naught to think Court might need protecting from, but this way she’d be warm at least.

  Watching his dog pace around her still form, then curl up at her back, left Ross feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one pressed up against her, his arm thrown over her for warmth.

  When she stiffened slightly at the contact, then sighed and burrowed back against the beast’s thick fur, he nigh groaned aloud, remembering the way she’d once sighed against his skin.

  “Good night, Fraser,” came her muffled voice, as if she knew he was watching her, instead of the night.

  His lips twitched upward at the thought, and he switched his gaze to the possible dangers lurking nearby. “Goodnight, Courtney.”

  Chapter 4

  By their third day of travel, Court had slowed down considerably. She realized now, the reason she’d been pushing so hard those first days, had been not because she was anxious to get to Kintyre, but because she had been running away.

  She had been attempting to run away from him, from the idea of having to be partnered with Ross Fraser, and everything it represented.

  But she had to acknowledge the fact that, thanks to the Queen, no matter how hard she pushed, she wasn’t going to be able to run away from him, no matter how much she wanted to.

  Damnation.

  “This is a good place to stop for the night.”

  She nudged her horse off the road and over a boundary stone, reaching a small clearing beside a burbling stream. Her suggestion was a way to make amends for the late nights on the road the first two days, and she prayed he realized it. She didn’t want to actually have to apologize with spoken words.

  Ross glanced at the sun, hanging fat and orange and low over the western hills, then followed her. She was grateful he didn’t make any quip about them stopping early, and it appeared he was as ready to rest as she was.

  As he worked at his saddle ties, he said almost apologetically, “We might’ve stopped in the last village, I suppose. Ye could’ve had a warm bed.”

  “Me?” She shook her head, even as she stretched her arms out to each side and twisted. “I am content sleeping on the ground. ‘Tis soft enough.” She prodded a pile of pine needles with the toe of her boot. “Nearly as fine as the straw in that inn, aye?”

  Last night they’d stopped in Ardlui, but since it had been so late, paid only for a hot meal and a stall in the stable for their horses. They’d bedded down, back-to-back, on a pile of hay next to the stall.

  Ross straightened, a shocked expression on his face as he stared at her. “Lady Ranged-Weapon, was that a joke? Did ye just make a joke?”

  She shrugged, even as she turned away, not wanting him to see the way her lips twitched at his incredulity. “I do have a sense of humor, ye ken.”

  “Are ye sure?” he called out behind her. “I’ve never seen it.”

  “Aye, well…mayhap ye’re no’ verra funny.”

  This time, when he laughed, she allowed herself a small smile, knowing he couldn’t see it as she bent over her saddle bags.

  The last four days had been interesting, to say the least. Once she gave up trying to outrun him, she allowed herself to really see him. See him for who he was, truly, not who she’d expected him to be, or who she remembered.

  And it was harder and harder to remain aloof and unfeeling around him.

  He was funny. And aye, sometimes his constant charm could be grating, but he also knew when to stay silent, when to give her the space she needed.

  His questions were interesting, the topics of conversation he chose were relevant to both of them and their situation. He gave good insight and seemed to respect her opinions.

  It was hard not to like him.

  Ye liked him well enough before.

  Nay, she reminded herself, I liked the look of him, years ago.

  She’d always liked the look of him—those large shoulders, thick arms, brawny chest. She was a tall woman, and appreciated he was even taller.

  She’d liked the look of him, and when they’d landed in bed together, had liked the feel of him too. But now, alone with him on this mission, she was coming to like him.

  God help her.

  “Are ye starving?”

  His question startled her out of her silent griping, and she shrugged, even as she lifted the saddle off her horse with a grunt.

  “Nay, no’ yet. I’ll find us some—”

  He interrupted her. “Stay. Relax.”

  When she turned to him, wiping her palms on her trewes and wondering what he meant, she saw he was stringing a bow.

  She’d seen it before, unstrung and strapped behind his saddle, where it was useless, but seeing it in his hands…?

  He was a big man, aye, and the bow matched. Being so much longer than hers, she could only imagine the draw-weight required to send a shaft any distance.

  Did he mean to hunt?

  When she met his eyes, he offered her a small smile. “Ye’ve hunted twice already, ‘tis my turn.” He gave an odd whistle—high, then low—which she’d heard the first night when he’d commanded his beast to sleep beside her. “Honor, stay. Protect.”

  She wanted to protest.

  I need no protection.

  Mayhap he saw and understood her unspoken objection, because his grin grew lopsided, as he shrugged one shoulder as if to say, I know. Humor me.

  She blew out a breath and waved dismissively.

  Fine.

  When he melted into the undergrowth, the greens of his plaid and bronzed skin fading into the background, she could swear he was smiling.

  So they were speaking without words now?

  “Blessed Virg
in, what is wrong with me?”

  It wasn’t until Honor woofed in reply she realized she’d spoken aloud. One side of her lips twitched as she sent the dog an amused glance. She was rubbing down her horse, so why not speak to the two beasts?

  “Ye think me mad now? I didnae speak to yer master, but I’ll speak to ye, eh?”

  The horse ignored her of course, but the dog cocked his head to one side and settled to his haunches, as if awaiting the next nugget of wisdom to come from her mouth.

  “And ye’ll just sit there, will ye? Protecting me?” She shook her head, even as she patted the horse’s flank and set her free to graze. “At least make yerself useful, Honor, and go fetch some firewood.”

  Mayhap it was the word fetch, or mayhap the beast was better trained than she’d expected, because the thing sprang to its feet in a blink and bounded into the woods. Before she could do more than raise a brow, he was back, a branch as big around as her wrist in his jaws.

  Her other brow joined the first.

  “Good dog.” She reached him, one hand unconsciously moving to that spot below his ear she knew he liked so much. “Drop it!”

  As he did—and fortunately for her, she got her foot out from under the branch just in time—she scratched at his favorite spot. “Good boy. Good dog!”

  Patting him with one hand, she pointed to the woods once more. “Fetch a few more of those, Honor, and I’ll gather kindling and tend to yer master’s horse.”

  She might’ve felt like a fool, speaking her intentions aloud like that, except the beast seemed to understand. While she brushed down Ross’s animal, Honor made trip after trip into the undergrowth, seemingly delirious with happiness as he barked at small creatures and slobbered all over their firewood.

  And as Court began to break the branches down, she realized her heart was light as well. Mayhap the dog’s joy was rubbing off on her, but she felt at peace. Of course, that might not last, if the noise Honor made scared off all Ross’s game.

  The fire was soon laid, but Court held off lighting it until she was sure he’d come back with some meat. Mayhap she’d have to go hunting after all.

  Did he even know how to use that bow?