King of Storms

by Amanda Scott

  “Aye, the gardener,” she said with a little sigh that struck him like a lance’s blow, for it told him he had disappointed her.

  “What were you thinking to confide in a gardener but in no one else?”

  “I had been playing with my wee nephew so my sister could talk quietly with our hostess,” she said, surprising him with her calm. “When his nurse took him away for his nap, and I found that Isobel and Lady Clendenen were also napping, I walked into the garden. I didn’t expect to meet the gardener.”

  “It is surely not unusual to meet a gardener in a garden,” he said.

  “I know, but although he is very kind, I wanted to be by myself. So when he asked if I was enjoying a stroll, I told him I meant to walk in the woods.”

  “He ought to have told you to stay in the garden,” he said severely.

  “Doubtless others will agree with you,” she said. “But he asked if I’d like to take a fishing pole along, and he was so kind that I did not like to say no, so I did, and I caught this fish. Then I got lost, and you came along just as I thought I’d figured out where the abbey was,” she added.

  “But why did you want to get away? Was there no one else at Clendenen House with whom you could converse?”

  “Oh, aye, two of my good-brothers were there, but they were talking privately and I did not want to disturb them.”

  “Are they not kind to you?” he demanded, feeling a sudden urge to have words with men so careless as to let this innocent lass walk abroad alone.

  Suppressing an urge to smile at his visible displeasure with Hugo and Rob, Sidony said, “They are very kind, sir. But one hesitates to interrupt such men when they talk privately, and I wanted to be alone. You see, I have been in Midlothian for a year now, and sometimes I like to pretend I am back home. Today was such a day.”

  “So you don’t ordinarily live in the royal burgh.”

  “Mercy, no. I have been staying alternately with three of my sisters. My sister Sorcha and I came to Midlothian when our older sister Adela did. Isobel was already living here, although she had been visiting our sister Cristina before that.”

  “Look here, how many sisters do you have?”

  “Six now. I used to have seven, but Mariota died and now there are only Cristina, Adela, Kate, Maura, Isobel, and Sorcha. They have all married, and in a month, my father is to marry Lady Clendenen. Until he does, though—”

  “Your father, aye. Is he here, as well? Did you just hope I’d not meet him?”

  “He is at home in the Highlands,” she said. “He is a member of the Council of the Isles, you see.”

  “But I don’t see,” he protested. “Who is your father?”

  Sidony grimaced. “Faith, here we are, walking together like old friends, and you do not even know my name. Nor I yours,” she added pointedly.

  “Nay, then, you don’t,” he said. “I ken fine that you think you ought to, and that the perfect gentleman you mentioned earlier would introduce himself. But I’d as lief you not mention my name to your friends or family, and I do not know yet if you can keep your tongue behind your teeth when you should.”

  “Very well,” she said, thinking that if he did not want to tell anyone his name, he would not want to meet Hugo or Rob, which would be just as well for her. “My father is Macleod of Glenelg, sir. I am his youngest daughter, Sidony.”

  “Lady Sidony, in fact,” he said with a glint of amusement. “I think I am fortunate that your father is not in town.”

  “I do not think he would berate you,” she said. “He would more likely be wroth with me for losing myself in these woods.”

  “Aye, but he might recognize me, lassie. Sithee, I, too, hail from Kintail.”

  She regarded him with greater interest than ever. “Have you just come from there? Oh, do tell me, has the weather been fine? Are the wildflowers in bloom? But surely, I must know your family, sir. There are not so many, and we know most of them. I do know all the Macleods. Are you a Mackenzie or a MacRae?”

  “Nay, lass, not yet. Tell me more of your family first. I ken fine who your father is, but I have been away more than I have been home these past ten years. Where is your mother, and how is it that three of your sisters live here in Midlothian if you are all good Highland lasses? But stay, did not your sister, the lady Cristina, marry Hector Reaganach Maclean of Lochbuie on the Isle of Mull?”

  He was frowning again, this time thoughtfully.

  She gathered her own thoughts, uncertain of how much he’d want to know. In her experience, men who asked questions wanted brief answers and few details.

  “My mother died when I was two, and Cristina is indeed married to Hector the Ferocious,” she said, answering the easiest ones first. “The rest makes rather a long story, though. You see, Adela was to marry Ardelve of Loch Alsh, but someone abducted her before she could and brought her here. Sorcha and I followed them, but Sir Hugo came looking for us. Oh, and before that Isobel met and married—”

  “Sir Hugo?” His voice took on a new note that silenced her. It did not sound as if he were at all happy to hear Hugo’s name.

  “Aye,” she said. “Sir Hugo Robison. He is my sister Sorcha’s husband.”

  His lips twitched, his eyes took on an unholy twinkle, then he laughed and shook his head. “My sins have caught up with me,” he said when he could speak.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because the last time I met Hugo Robison, he knocked me flat, and if he learns how we met, I’ve little doubt he’ll try to do it again.”

  Demurely, she said, “Hugo is a gentleman, of course, like you. I wonder if he also kisses innocent serving wenches for amusement.”

  “Sakes, lass, I hope you don’t mean to ask him!”

  “But my sisters say that if one wants to know a thing, one should ask.”

  He gave her a look probably meant to intimidate her, but she met it easily, feeling only that tingling anticipation again as she said, “Truly, sir, you need not be afraid of Hugo. Indeed, I cannot think why you need even meet him. When we reach the abbey, I can easily go back the way I came, through the gardens. Then, he need never know that we’ve met.”

  Amusement lit his eyes again. “I don’t doubt you’d prefer it that way. Indeed, I’m guessing he’ll be as displeased with you as he will be with me, will he not?”

  “Aye, he would be if we were foolish enough to go to him together. ’Tis for that very reason that you would be wiser to let me go back alone.”

  “I cannot do that,” he said with a wry smile, politely offering his arm this time. “Sithee, in my experience, unpleasant things are best done straightaway. Moreover, your presence may protect me.”

  Wondering what was going to protect her, Sidony ignored the proffered arm and said dryly, “Before we go any farther, sir, you had better collect your horse.”

  Chapter 2

  The minx had let him walk nearly a quarter mile from where he had left his horse before speaking up, but Giff decided he could not blame her. Moreover, if he were to suggest that she had done so on purpose, she would doubtless point out that he had been the one to urge departure and insist that she had only obeyed him.

  And, too, of course, the horse was his responsibility. The kinsman from whom he had borrowed it would certainly think so, and as that man was a powerful Borderer more likely to react to its neglect with temper than with understanding, it behooved him to collect the animal without further ado.

  He glanced at the lass, who regarded him with what he believed was her usual calm, making him wonder what else it would take to stir temper or passion in her. She still carried the fish, which looked none the worse for having clouted him. But for all the heed she paid it, it might have been a worthless trinket.

  “I cannot leave you here,” he said. “You’ll have to walk back with me to fetch the beast.”

  “Doesn’t your horse have a name?”

  “Likely it does,” Giff admitted. “But I haven’t a notion what it may be.”

&n
bsp; “Faith, did you steal it?”

  He grinned. “If I had, it would not be the first time. Nay, then, don’t frown at me like that. You’re too beautiful to spoil your looks with such a grimace.”

  Her eyes lit as if no one had complimented her beauty until that moment, but before he could wonder at such a nonsensical thought, she looked away, flushing delicately as she said, “You should not say such things to me.”

  “I imagine you hear such things all the time,” he said. “But you are right to remind me of my manners. Hugo will certainly do so.”

  “How do you know him?” she asked.

  “You mean, how does Hugo come to know a horse thief?” he asked dryly.

  “Do you really steal horses?”

  “Sometimes.” He was looking around, hoping he had not misplaced the wretched beast. It was almost unheard of for him to become disoriented, but from the moment he’d laid eyes on the lass, he’d seen nothing but her. It occurred to him that it was a good thing she had not been bait in a trap set by an enemy.

  “Stealing is a black sin,” she said primly.

  “Aye, well, a man does what he has to do. Moreover, I’ve just come from the Borders, where men don’t believe that taking other men’s animals is stealing. They call it ‘reiving,’ and it is just a way of life. If a man needs a horse or a few kine to feed his family, he goes a-reiving. Ah, there he is,” he added.

  “You sound relieved,” she said. “Did you fear you’d lost him?”

  “Don’t be absurd. A man does not lose his horse.”

  “But if it isn’t your horse . . . If you stole it . . .”

  “Look here,” he said. “I did not steal this horse. I borrowed it.”

  She nodded sagely. “I have heard others say the same thing when they were caught stealing. Moreover, when one borrows something, one returns it.”

  “And so I shall,” he said, grinning now. “The kinsman I borrowed it from is the sort who would behave unpleasantly if I neglected to do so.”

  “Are you afraid of him?”

  “Sakes, how you do twist a man’s words! Here, I’ll put you up on him, so you need not walk all the way back. I hope you aren’t afraid of horses.”

  “Of course not. I have ridden all my life.”

  “Have you?” He was surprised. “Highland women rarely ride, and the few I’ve seen who do are not much good at it.”

  “I am,” she said. “However, I have no wish to ride one you have stolen.”

  “I wish you would stop assuming that I stole this beast,” he said curtly as he untied the bay and stroked its neck and nose to steady it.

  “You said you did steal him.”

  “I did not. I said quite clearly, not two minutes ago, that I did not steal him.”

  “Aye, sure, but before that you said—”

  “I said only that if I had, it would not have been the first time.”

  “So you do steal.”

  He turned to face her, ready to reply in no uncertain terms, but when he saw that she was regarding him in much the same speculative way that a robin might regard a tasty worm, her light blue eyes sparkling with anticipation, he hesitated. Then, trying to keep his tone as mild as her own, he said instead, “Do you exert yourself to stir coals like this with every man you meet?”

  To his surprise, she did not deny that was what she was doing. Instead, she smiled wistfully and said, “I don’t meet many men. I have never met one whilst I was out walking like this, or anyone at all like you.”

  “A thief, you mean?”

  She nodded, still watching him with that speculative look, leaving him in no doubt now that she was somehow testing him, even baiting him.

  He sighed. “Lass, I don’t know what to make of you, but ’tis clear that the sooner I return you to your kinsmen, the better it will be for both of us, so I’ll just put you on the horse now,” he added, reaching for her.

  She stepped back, saying calmly, “No, thank you. I’ll walk.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” he said more sternly. “I need to let the mud on my breeks dry anyway, and you’ll get your boots even muddier than they are now if you walk on through this bog-ridden forest. Moreover, you’ll be more comfortable riding.”

  “I don’t think so, but thank you all the same.”

  “I’m not offering to let you ride to earn your gratitude,” he growled.

  “But I prefer to walk.”

  “And I say you will ride.” He put his hands on his hips and gave her his sternest look, the look that sent grown men scurrying to obey his orders.

  The horse nudged his shoulder just then hard enough to make him take an involuntary step toward her.

  Her lips twitched, and the beguiling twinkle in her eyes deepened.

  “By heaven, do you dare to laugh at me?” He reached for her again, and although she began to step back, he was too quick for her, catching her arm.

  She made a sound in her throat like a gasp, but she did not look away, and when he looked into her eyes again, he saw that the twinkle had vanished. A look of serene expectation had replaced it.

  Her tongue darted out to lick her soft pink lips—a blatant invitation.

  His hand was tight around her arm, and Sidony stood still, uncertain if she had angered him. He was certainly frowning, and she knew from experience with her brothers-in-law that men did not like women to laugh at them, but she had not been able to help letting her amusement show when the horse pushed him.

  He was still looking at her in that odd, measuring way, as if he were trying to understand her or to decide just how to scold her. Doubtless, the latter was the correct interpretation. The men she knew did not react well to defiance, either.

  She did not feel defiant. She just did not want to ride his horse, carrying her fish, while he walked alongside or ahead, leading the animal. To do so would feel awkward and put her under even greater obligation to him. Just letting him escort her would prove to Hugo and Rob that her walk in the woods had been foolish, even dangerous. Then, doubtless, one or the other would forbid her to do it again.

  These thoughts flitted through her head as her gaze met his, but a moment later, she saw the look in his eyes alter. And when her mouth went dry and she wet her lips, his look deepened to unmistakable hunger. His grip on her arm tightened.

  She swallowed but did not look away. He was going to kiss her again, and reckless or not, she wanted him to. But before she realized his expression had changed again, he caught her round the waist and lifted her onto his saddle.

  Quick as thought, careful not to drop her fish, she swung both legs to the other side of the horse and slid to the ground, stepping quickly back, lest it take exception to such treatment and kick or rear. It did toss its head, snort, and take a few restless steps, but he grabbed the bridle and quickly steadied it.

  Grimly, he said, “You begin to irk me, lass.”

  “I am sorry, for you have shown kindness to me,” she said. “But I do not want to ride your horse whilst you lead it, or to ride pillion with you. Just think what people would say if we were to proceed up the Canongate so. Everyone would look and gape, imagining all manner of things about us.”

  “Do you think it will be any different if we both walk?”

  “Aye, sure, it will. There can be naught amiss in our having met in the woods and walked out of them together. Faith, if there is, that just underscores how prudent my earlier suggestion was, that I should go back the way I came whilst you ride on to wherever you meant to go.”

  “So I should not bother to see Hugo at all. Is that your plan?”

  “Well, I would not have put it just that way, but it is a better plan.”

  “I warrant you think so, at all events.” He shook his head. “Do you imagine that when we meet again, as we doubtless shall, since I will certainly see Hugo, I should just pretend never to have met you before?”

  She had not thought about that possibility. “Must you see Hugo?”

  “I must, for that is why I c
ame to Edinburgh.”

  “Oh. But if you rode here from the Borders, why did you not enter the city the usual way, straight up the Cowgate to the High Street?”

  “I don’t think that concerns you,” he said. “What does concern you is that, regardless of what you think of me, I do not take advantage of innocent wenches, particularly noble ones. Nor do I approve of such wenches’ wandering about without protection. Most especially,” he added, stern again, “I don’t approve of women who are kin to my friends doing such things. My father would take a stout switch to any sister of mine who behaved so.”

  “Have you even got a sister?”

  “Aye, two of them.”

  “Well, you have no right to take a switch to me,” she said. “And although Hugo can be very fierce, I do not think he would, either.” Another thought, even less welcome, struck her. “You would not suggest such a course to him, would you?”

  His demeanor softened reassuringly. “Nay, lass, I would not. But come now. We have dawdled here long enough.”

  “You won’t try to put me on that horse again?”

  “Nay, it shall be as you wish,” he said. “This time.”

  The way he said the last two words sent a shiver up her spine, but she rallied quickly. The chance that she would see much of him after today was slim.

  Giff watched as she moved ahead to pick a path through the boggy woods, wondering what it was about her that had made him give in so easily. She deserved a good smack on the backside, if only for her stubbornness, but when she had asked if he would suggest such punishment to Hugo, something deep inside had recoiled at the thought of anyone striking her.

  “Do you mean to stride ahead of me all the way?” he asked.

  She hesitated, looking back. “Promise you won’t try again to make me ride.”

  “I have already said I will not,” he reminded her. “My word is good.”

  She nodded. “Very well, then; I’ll walk beside you if you prefer.”