Highland Devil

by Hannah Howell

  Smiling, he started to shed his clothes. When he was naked, he crawled under the covers, tugged her into his arms, and waited until her shivering stopped. Not long after, he decided that as soon as he could he would pull down a few of the blankets as it was too hot for him.

  He lightly rubbed her back and she snuggled closer, putting her arms around him and laying her cheek against his chest. He could grow to like this, he thought, and smiled. Her night shift hid little of her shape when he held her so close. Curious if her skin felt as soft as it looked, he slipped his hand just under the hem and stroked her leg. Then he pulled his hand away with reluctance, knowing it was a grave trespass and not wishing to get caught and then have to try and explain what he had been doing. He had proven his suspicion. Her skin was as soft and smooth as it looked.

  Moving just enough to reach out and turn down the added covers, he then held her close and closed his eyes. He would have a short rest, then return to just watching her for any sign of some new turn in her illness. Briefly peeking at Freya, who sprawled on the pillow near her head, he caught the cat watching him.

  “Wake me when the sun starts to rise,” he said, and chuckled as he closed his eyes again.

  * * *

  Mora woke up slowly. She was so nice and warm when she could faintly recall being so very cold, the kind of cold that sank right down into your bones. Snuggling closer to the warmth, she suddenly realized that it was not a blanket wrapped around her legs. It was a leg. She shifted her legs a little. It was a big leg, too.

  Cautiously, she opened her eyes and found herself staring at a big arm wrapped around her shoulders. Mora knew she should not be having so much trouble figuring this out, but it was as if her brain was wrapped in a fog. She turned her head and felt the slight tickle of hair against her nose.

  It was hard, but she resisted the strong urge to leap out of bed. She felt no fear, which was odd, she thought. Leaning back a little, she looked up and saw Gybbon’s sleeping face. He looked years younger with his face relaxed in sleep.

  That was why she had no fear, she decided. She also had no idea why he was in her bed and—she lifted the covers, then quickly put them back down—why he was naked. Glancing around, she saw no one else in the room and rested against him again.

  Gybbon was why that cold she recalled was gone. A glance at the window told her it was just dawn, and still early dawn for the sun was down by the horizon. Despite the hilly land around them she could still see a bit of the sun. So, too early to be awake, she decided, but she felt no strong need to go back to sleep.

  After lying there for a while trying to decide what she should do and enjoying being held close by Gybbon more than she probably should, she noticed a sore spot on her head, one that throbbed enough to try and make her head ache. Mora sat up and grabbed the tankard on the table by the bed, having a long drink of the cider left for her. She then reached up and felt around her head before finding a bump on the back. Try as hard as she could, she could not think of where she might have gotten it.

  Gybbon opened his eyes and watched as Mora rubbed the spot on her head that had hit the floor. He had begun to wake up when she had started moving around, a little afraid she would panic when she found him there. Mora had either figured out why he was there or she was still groggy.

  “Morning,” he said, and looked at Freya. “Ye were supposed to wake me when the sun rose.”

  Mora laughed and watched as her cat patted him on the face. “The sun has just risen and ye should be glad I was slow this morning or ye might be the one needing a wound tended.”

  “Ye were shivering from the cold, although it was warm enough in here.”

  “I could remember that much. My mither got the chills bad once and my da climbed into the bed with her, then had me and Andrew crawl in as well. However,” she said sternly and looked at him, “we kept all our clothes on.”

  “I believe I mentioned once that I dinnae wear them when climbing into a proper bed.”

  She just harrumphed in a soft way, then rubbed her head again. “Why does my head hurt?”

  “It didnae like the floor it met with.” When she looked at him in confusion, he just smiled.

  “I fell?”

  “Like a stone. Ye were right outside the door to the hall and headed to the stairs when ye went down. Ye had the fever again. Annys thinks it was simply because ye did too much too soon, had too much weighing on your mind and heart.” He reached around her, grabbed the tankard, and used the last of the cider to rinse away the taste of the night from his mouth.

  “I didnae ride a horse and that was all Jolene said I couldnae do.”

  “Aye, I ken it, but Annys thinks ye have had far too much to deal with for a while now and that may have made the cart ride enough to make ye sick again. Your wound is just fine—before ye ask. Your head didnae split open or the like, so that will stop being painful soon.”

  “Well, I guess that was lucky as that floor is hard.”

  “Ye could put a cold cloth on the spot. I dinnae ken why, but it can help.” He reached out to find the spot giving her trouble. “’Tis a sizeable knot ye have there.”

  She sighed as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. When she did not immediately protest, he kissed her. This was how a man should wake up in the morning, he thought, as he deepened the kiss and she responded, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  He moved his kisses to her throat and she murmured with an enjoyment that tempted him to kiss her again. He stroked her back as he gently brought her even closer. Gybbon heartily wished there were not so many bedcovers between them.

  Mora knew she should pull away and put a stop to this, but she held him tighter and returned his kiss. She also knew she should put an end to the way he was stroking her anywhere he could reach. It was not until she felt the heat of his hand move over her breast that alarm crept into the pleasure he was stirring.

  Gybbon silently cursed as he felt her body stiffen, but he stole one last caress before he pulled back. She was a lady and an innocent. Greedy though he was feeling, he knew he had to move slowly.

  “Weel, that was a fine good morning,” he drawled, then winked at her. “But ye better turn away because I am about to get out from under these cursed covers. Unless ye have a wish to bask in my beauty.”

  Mora rolled her eyes and turned around, ignoring the part of her that urged her to look. If nothing else, that could make him think she was ready for something she knew she should not indulge in. From what little she had glimpsed when lifting the covers a bit to peek at him, he was a very nicely put together man.

  “Does Andrew ken I fell down and got the fever again?”

  “Aye, I am afraid so. He is with the other boys though and kenned I was going to watch ye during the night.”

  “He slept with some of the boys?”

  “Aye. They put him with Benet and Joan’s lads.”

  “How lovely. He rarely gets to be with boys near his age.”

  “Nay only near his age but ones who have shared some of the troubles he is having now.” He grabbed her gently by the arm and tugged her over to him, then gave her a quick hard kiss on the mouth. “Do ye want a maid sent?”

  “Nay, I could too easily get spoiled.”

  “Then I shall see ye in the hall.” He walked to the door.

  “Do ye think it was the bath that brought the fever on?” she asked as she watched him reach for the handle of the door.

  “Nay, I doubt that. For all we ken, it could have aided in it leaving ye so quickly. Nay, I think Annys is right. Ye have just carried too much all on your own for far too long.”

  Mora thought on that as she rose to get dressed, moving slowly until she felt certain she was steady on her feet. Her mind was inclined to drift to the sweetness of his kisses, the way they made her feel, but she forced it to stay on the matter of what had caused her to swoon like some weak maid. She would think about Gybbon, his kisses and caresses, later. And those feelings much later than th
at, she decided. It would be important to know if she would refuse or accept them, but there was time for all that later.

  He was right; she had been carrying a lot of weight for a long time now and had had little time to deal with all of it. There was her grief over her parents, her added grief over the likely fate of her brothers, and being the head of a household, a household her thieving cousins thought should be theirs. There had been no time to sort out any of these concerns, and it had been exhausting her. It was a shock to realize her own cousins were willing to kill off her entire family, people who had always been kind to him and his family, just to take back what their grandfather had willingly and legally given to his youngest son.

  Somehow, she had to get their father, her uncle, to heed her. She had not seen the man for a fortnight or more, but perhaps he had improved to where he could, and would listen to her. Jolene was certain the mon was being poisoned. Mora could not bring herself to disbelieve that, but did wonder if Robert’s brothers knew of it.

  If not, then she needed to try and do something to save them, especially Murdoch. She knew he had no knowledge of his brother’s crimes. She could still see that look of horror on his face when Robert had openly admitted to killing and stealing from her parents. She was not as certain about Lachlan and Duncan and their part in all of it.

  She finally yanked off her night shift and began to get dressed. A quick look at her wound was enough to tell her she had done it no harm when she had fallen. It was ugly but not infected at all. Mora took a moment to dig out the cream Jolene had packed for her and rubbed it on her wound.

  Mora was going to have to ask Jolene how she made it. It soothed the itch of healing that still bothered her occasionally, and she was certain it was easing the scarring such a wound could leave her with. There had been no poisoning in the wound, either. This was a salve she definitely wanted to be able to make and always have at hand.

  * * *

  Leaving the bedchamber, she headed down the stairs, going carefully and keeping a firm grip on the rail at the side. She could hear that the morning meal was being put out and almost laughed when her stomach rumbled softly. It was all so wonderfully normal and she hungered for normal. Normal and calm. She gave a start when a hand gently grasped her by the arm.

  “Sorry,” said Annys. “I had thought ye kenned I was following ye.”

  “I thought ye were already down there. I could hear that the food was being served.”

  “I had to go change my gown. Bit of an accident in the kitchens.” Annys looked at her. “So ye are feeling better?”

  “Aye. Much. E’en put Jolene’s cream on my wound myself and decided I need to learn how to make some. It is marvelous.”

  “It is, and I keep meaning to do the same, but she keeps giving me some so I forget. Sigimor’s people are doing better?”

  “Aye. He just felt the need to get Jolene and his son away from there.”

  “If I had suffered what he went through when he was a young mon, I would have done the same. But what about his twin girls?”

  “At one of their kinsmen’s with about seven nursemaids to, as was said, keep them out of trouble.” She grinned when Annys laughed heartily. “They cannae be that bad, can they?”

  “Aye, they can, but they are adorable. I have only met with them once and they were younger, but e’en then I could see it. They are definitely Sigimor’s girls.”

  “I seem to have met with so many people since Gybbon came into my life.”

  “And there are more to come if ye stay in it. Many more. And they are already planning on whom to get in touch with to try and find out what happened to your brothers.”

  “It would be wondrous if they could and e’en more so if they were found alive.”

  Annys patted her arm. “Keep that hope.”

  * * *

  Niall Ogilvy groaned and rubbed his backside when his brother David had them stop for a brief meal. “Why are we rushing there?” he asked.

  “Because something is wrong. Verra wrong. I ken it and need to ken what it is.”

  “If ’tis trouble we are galloping toward mayhap we should have brought some of the other men.”

  “I ken where they are. Made certain of it before we left them. Have their promise to come and help if help is needed.”

  Niall stopped the pacing he had begun to limber up his legs and sat down to look at David. “Ye are truly worried.”

  “Someone tried to kill us, Niall. We cannae forget that. I dinnae e’en need to look at the scar I have to keep it in mind. Except for the French we were fighting, there was no one o’er there who kenned us weel enough to want us dead. And did it ne’er trouble ye that we got no news from home? That our parents or sister ne’er once sent us word to ask about us or tell us about them? They can all write.”

  “Aye”—he shrugged—“but I just assumed it was because we were nay easy to find and we were far from home.”

  “I did, too, until I spoke to the men awaiting a hanging for their trying to murder us. They were hired by Scots just before they boarded the boat to go to France. They gave a description of the one who did the talking and it sounded verra much like our dear cousin Robert.”

  “Jesu,” Niall whispered. “Why? We ne’er did anything to him.”

  “Nay, but I do ken that he has always resented the fact that Grandfather gave our father that house and several acres of land. It took a bite out of what he saw as his.”

  “It wasnae his; it was the old laird’s and then became his father’s.”

  “And will soon be his. Rabbit is near done. We eat, then continue.”

  “Mora might need us?”

  “Aye. Her and wee Andrew.” David could see that Niall was puzzled and asked, “Why would our cousin hire men to kill us? Why nay just wait and see if fighting in France will end us?”

  “Because he is getting rid of heirs to that bit of land until it has to be drawn back into the big lot his father holds?” Niall asked the question in a quiet, nervous voice.

  “Aye. It is all that makes any sense.”

  “I pray ye are wrong.”

  “Nay harder than I do, but just the thought has me anxious to get back home. I need to see if I am wrong or right. Until I can see what awaits, I cannae rest. The question of why did he try to have us killed preys on me.”

  “Then we willnae rest. Much. We will go get your answers.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mora blushed faintly as Gybbon hooked her arm through his and led her out into the garden. It was dark but there were a few torches lit to give light to the area, and the moon shone bright. She suspected everyone who had seen them leave the hall knew why he was taking her for a walk in the gardens when one could barely see what grew there, and that did embarrass her a bit.

  They had been at Glenfuerach for a week and she loved the keep. It was well run and sturdy, with a guard obviously trained to watch and battle any trouble that came along. Annys was already a friend and Andrew was happy to be with other boys in a place behind big, thick walls.

  “Triona, Brett’s wife, has done a lot of work here,” Gybbon said, sounding quite proud of his brother’s wife as he looked around. “She and Annys worked hard, although Annys was cautious because she carried her child. It was an overgrown, snarled mess. They even put in the herb garden. Then Triona returned to her home and Brett.”

  “Why did they have to do so much work?”

  “’Twas left alone for too long. The new laird cared naught about gardens. He did like to hunt down the meat for the table but cared nothing about all the rest ye need for a fine meal. ’Twas much the same with the whole keep. It all needed work. The laird here wanted Triona’s keep. He probably planned on living there and just allowing this one to rot and expanding his land holdings.”

  “Annys told me some of the tale.” She shook her head. “I just find it difficult to understand. Aye, your brother and Annys have cleaned things, but the mon had a fine, sturdy keep and land. Why try so hard t
o grab even more? Why nay just make this one finer?”

  “Annys’s lands were far more fertile and she had excellent grazing lands, so her husband’s cousin came after them. He thought to make his hold on the place more firm by wedding her, but that failed so he just tried to take them. He had the backing of his family, too, for they had always resented her late husband being given the lands. She has a lot of skilled people on her lands and their market day produced a nice profit. He wanted that, too. He even put all her fighting men in prison to rot. So, after the battle and after Harcourt got himself named laird of this place with Brett’s blessings.

  “With Triona, it was her neighbor Sir John, with his family’s quiet backing at the start, as they all disliked the fact that their ancestor lost the lands and they had ended up in the possession of her late husband, Boyd. They felt it should be theirs. Brett had kenned her years before but came the moment she wrote him of trouble. There was e’en a battle o’er it all, but then that ended when her husband’s elder brother, Nigel, appeared from the dead and joined in. It appears France is a good place to try and rid oneself of unwanted relatives as Adam had paid someone to put Nigel in a prison to rot. So Brett weds her and is suddenly Laird of Banuilt, the keep John held. Annys and her son came here to be with Harcourt.”

  “Ye didnae lie when ye said your kin had experience with greedy relations trying to enrich themselves. Seeing this, all I can think of is that Robert seeks to steal a pittance. It seems that the surest way to trouble for a woman is to be in possession of some lands.”

  He laughed and led her to a bench set between two trees with gently arching branches. Gybbon sat and tugged her down beside him. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up close to his side. It pleased him when she snuggled closer and rested her head against his chest.

  He kissed her temple. “Ye are safe here. Andrew is safe here as weel.”