Passion and Plaid - Her Highland Hero (Scottish Historical Romance)

by Karin, Anya

  “It’s... a lot to think about, Duggan.”

  “Aye, and it could be much more innocent than all that. He could just be selling wood and trying to establish a long-term contract so he sells it cheap. It’s just my nature, I canna imagine that’s all there is to it. What’s this then?”

  The door squeaked open slowly. Duggan announced that the inn was not yet open, except to let out rooms, but the new entrant strode forward. She turned to see Rollo, the little man from the courthouse.

  “Kenna? Kenna Moore?” He said, ignoring Duggan.

  For a moment, hearing her own name, instead of her assumed one, took Kenna by surprise, and she didn’t answer.

  “Wh – why yes. How do you know me?”

  “Message from Mayor Steven Marlowe Willard. He wanted me to put it to your hands directly.” The man had a strange accent that Kenna couldn’t place. He had a fascinating way of twisting his sounds that made her think he was from far away. That, and his olive-hued skin, made her think he was from the south of France.

  “Oh, why thank you, I suppose.” She looked to Duggan, who shrugged. Turning back to the messenger, she couldn’t help her curiosity and asked, “Where is it you’re from? You have the most lovely voice.”

  “Algiers,” Rollo said.

  “How wonderful,” Kenna said. “I’ve always wanted to see the Mediterranean.”

  “You have? Most people don’t seem to know about my home.”

  “My father, he insisted that I learn geography when I was young.”

  “Well, I must be going. But I do hope to see you again soon. And so does Master Willard.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Kenna said, entranced by his way of speaking so greatly that she didn’t grasp what he said.

  By the time she thought to ask him, Rollo was gone, and she saw him disappear into a squat carriage outside her door pulled by two squat horses.

  “Someone has an admirer,” Duggan said. “Might want to open that thing you’ve been given. I think you’re to have an engagement.”

  “An...what? What do you mean?”

  Duggan crooked his eyebrow and looked at the letter. “He brought you a letter, and then told you that Willard hoped to see you later.”

  “Oh, I’m such a fool!” Kenna laughed. “I was so taken by his bizarre accent that I paid what he said no mind at all.”

  “You’re a kind soul. You’re presented with a hunchback and think only of his accent.”

  “I noticed his back, but it just didn’t seem as interesting as his wonderful voice.”

  Duggan just smiled in response, and Kenna slid her finger under the seal on the note, breaking it off.

  She read:

  “Dear Miss Moore, I noticed your presence in my courtroom the day before this, and have never noticed a traveler taking such interest in our little village. Moreover, I couldn’t help but notice the young man with whom you were traveling seemed not to accompany you. Certainly he didn’t just send a beautiful young woman such as yourself out alone? Perhaps he was ill.”

  “Who does he think he is?” She said to Duggan, who again shrugged.

  “He’s the mayor. He’s got a certain amount of expected pomposity, I suppose.”

  She pursed her lips and continued:

  “As it is so rare that we have guests stay for any length of time in our town, I’d like to extend an offer for you and your traveling companion – I’m sorry, your ‘husband’ as you styled him – to attend a dinner at my home this evening. There are some dignitaries from England with whom I am meeting, and so I thought it fitting to invite some native dignitaries as well. Just so you know, the party will run long into the night, as is my custom.”

  “Dignitary? What is he talking about?”

  “There seems to be sarcasm dripping off those pages, dear Kenna,” Duggan said. “But still, you’ve wanted to find out about the man. What better way that to sit in his dining room? And what he says is true. At least I can’t remember the last time we had either English dignitaries, by who I assume he means the Company buyers, nor regular Scots stay in this place for more than a day as they passed through. Is there anything more to it?”

  “No,” she said. Her hand took on a tremble so that the paper audibly shook. “Just a signature and a seal. Oh and he says that a carriage will arrive just before sunset.”

  “A carriage?” Duggan let out a booming laugh. “Doesn’t sound much like he’s asking, does it?”

  “No, I suppose not,” she said, with a heavy sigh.

  Back in her room, Kenna was thankful that Gavin made her pack the single ball-gown she’d ever owned. She tried to leave it with everything else, claiming it was too much, too big and they needed to pack light. But Gavin, being Gavin, packed it in a trunk himself after she’d already gone to sleep.

  Just pulling the green satiny dress with the intricate skirting and delicate lace-lined sleeves, then slowly unfolding it on the bed made her think of him all over again.

  I thought I’d gotten over this already. She smiled through the tears that welled in her eyes. Instinctively her hand went to her throat and she held her pendant, wishing that instead of putting on her fancy dress and going to a party to play at solving a mystery, she was on the road to Fort Mary with her sweet Gavin.

  That was all she wanted.

  That was all she could think about as she dressed. She imagined Gavin helping her into her sleeves, and then blushed when she thought about him helping her out of them and giggled in spite of herself.

  Standing in front of the dingy mirror, she smoothed the soft green fabric down that perfectly played off the bright red of her hair and the sweet blue of her eyes. With a careful hand, Kenna brushed her fiery mop just like Olga and Elena had shown her, and pinned it in such a way that it all at least appeared to be tamed.

  I wonder how they are? Olga and her funny ways, Elena and her never-ending kindness. She turned back and forth, inspecting her work. Not as good as when the two of them, or when her mother, were in charge of getting her together, but Kenna was nonetheless impressed with how well she’d done, even if she couldn’t strap her corset quite as snugly as she would have liked doing it by herself.

  Just then, as she continued to study herself, the door to the inn opened, and she heard Rollo call out to her. She turned to leave, and when she did, remembered her little pencil and notebook. She stuck the bundle underneath her sash and once again smoothed everything down to make sure it was all invisible.

  “Coming!” She called as she opened her door.

  Keep yourself together, Kenna. Gavin’s only a day’s ride away. He’ll be back before you know it.

  That was all she needed to hear, even if it came from her own lips. Stealing one last glance in the reflecting glass, she decided to do something she’d never done before. She stuck two fingers underneath the high collar of her gown, and fished out the delicate chain holding her thistle, pulled it, and looked at it in the mirror, on the outside, after being hidden for so very long.

  I’m yours, Gavin. Always and forever.

  Seven

  Edinburgh

  August 17, Late Morning

  “We’re not like to find him here this early,” Lynne said.

  Her irritation at sitting around outside the various taverns and pubs on Rose Street until someone caught a glimpse of Sheriff Alan was just about to boil over.

  “Goes to show just how little you know about our angry friend,” John said with a smirk. “Here’s the barkeep.”

  “Excuse me there, sir!” John called. The man turned. He was tall, round, and stub-nosed, but smiled cheerily enough.

  “What-ho?”

  “Well we were wondering if you could help us. You see, we’ve been looking for a man about yay high,” John measured Alan’s height off against the wall where he stood. “Last I saw him, the fellow was rather disheveled and had a hat that was sitting more or less on his head.”

  “Alan?” The barkeep said then grunted a laugh. “The old sheriff? Aye, I se
en him. Threw him out. Twice in one night.”

  “That was easier than I thought. I figured on having to hunt for him a little.”

  “Ach! He’s been tearing up and down Rose since he showed up again. Weren’t a rare sight when he was still the sheriff, but since he’s been back – by the way, he was sayin’ he escaped from prison? Sounded like sheepshit to me – he canna seem to stop sucking down drink.”

  “Do you expect him to show again? We need to, ah, speak with the former sheriff.”

  “Expect him? Aye. Want him? No. He’s an awful liability, especially with how he abuses the staff.”

  At that, Lynne laughed out loud. “There’s a surprise, aye?”

  John just shook his head.

  “Any rate, what’re you pair? Police?”

  “Ever seen police what look like her?”

  “I admit I ‘aven’t. I’m blind in one eye though, so I also admit I dinna actually see – oh, but I wish I’d seen her insteada you now that I notice.”

  “Aye, she is quite a sight, isn’t she friend?”

  “I’m right here!”

  “Oh sorry about that. I get carried away is all. But aye, if you stay around long enough and he’s not dead in a gutter somewhere, the damned sheriff will be back, ready to fight and spit all over’n everything before long. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve to get ready for the day. Lots of pasties to fry.”

  “Sure, friend. And here,” John plucked a Crown out of his sporran. “For your troubles.”

  “Wasn’t any trouble, but I won’t say no.”

  As the barkeep first unlocked, and then sauntered inside, John turned to Lynne, nodded, and then immediately wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “What’s this, you predator?” She said, laughing and swatting at him playfully.

  “It’s just that,” he paused to kiss her, soft and sweet. “As I was talking to him, I thought about how lucky I am to have you.” He brushed his lips against Lynne’s cheek, then her throat before sucking her lip between his teeth and grinning.

  “Is that so, John Two-fingers? I expect you’ll be wanting a compliment now?” She ran her hand down the side of his leg, squeezed his knee, and drew it up the other side until it slid beneath his kilt.

  “Ach, no, what I was saying is I’m lucky to have you because you’re a little prettier than he was.” He nodded in the direction of the bar.

  “John, you foul beast!” On the inside of his thigh, a few inches above his knee, Lynne grabbed a big pinch of skin between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted until John squealed. “That’s for being awful!”

  “Ah! And she says I’m the awful one!” John laughed as he squirmed.

  A moment later, his hands moved from Lynne’s waist to the back of her head, he pulled her close and kissed her deep, pushing her back against the wall.

  “I can forgive you, I suppose,” she whispered.

  “Aye, you can? I’m so glad.” John’s lips moved along her jaw to behind her ear.

  “This time, anyway.”

  “What if we do find him?” Elena said to Rodrigo in the Spanish of their native Castile as he kicked one of his feet up against the wall of the pub at which they were stationed to watch for the sheriff.

  “If?”

  “The others might find him first.”

  “Hmm, they may, they may. But one of us will. We’ll see the weasel soon. And when we do I’ll temper my steel in his stomach.”

  Elena’s eyes darkened. “You tried to kill him before, too, and Gavin and John stopped you then. Why try again? Why not let it go and be happy?”

  “He tried to ruin my life, dear love, I can’t let go of the anger he put in my heart. I want to. I want to be free of the hate he’s made me feel but I can’t.” His fingers closed around the hilt of his rapier and he squeezed until his knuckles went white.

  “Rod, you have to leave it alone. You’re not you anymore, not since-”

  “Don’t. Just don’t say his name. I can’t hear it or I’ll go mad.”

  She put her hand on her husband’s shoulder and rubbed him gently over his tunic. “What would bring you peace? What can I do?”

  “You do, some. Nothing else can though. You make me calm when I become so enraged I feel like my skin is burning, but that’s all you can do. That’s all anyone can do until my soul finds peace.”

  “How can you? All I want is to see you happy again, like you were at home.”

  At that, Rodrigo shifted his weight to his other foot, kicked at a rock that had fallen loose from the cobbled street, and laughed. “That was a different life, dear love. A different place.”

  “It was not so long ago. Not so long at all. You weren’t even this angry when you were being moved around all the time from one war-front to another. Why are you so full of hate?”

  He finally let go of the sword and wrung his hands.

  “I...wish I knew.”

  Elena breathed a heavy sigh. “It’s not just him. I know it isn’t. You’d never let another man control you like that. You’re too strong. You’re too...Rodrigo.”

  He laughed honestly, and loud. “That I am, my love. That I am. In truth, I can’t tell you. I wish more than anything that I knew. This anger makes my heart ache, you know?”

  “What I know is that you’re a good man – a beautiful man. You have the kindest spirit I’ve ever felt, and when you smile you light up rooms. When you frown, you darken them. And you’ve been frowning an awful lot. I want to find some way to get the darkness out of you, but first I need to figure out what got it there in the first place.”

  As she spoke, Rodrigo cast his walnut-colored eyes to a man sleeping against a pub’s wall. “This,” he said. “This man,” he tilted his head in the fellow’s direction, “this is suffering. That someone must sleep outside, drunk and alone.”

  “You’ve been drunk and asleep against walls a time or two that I remember,” Elena chuckled when she noticed she got a smile out of her husband.

  “But I always had a place to lay my head should I manage to stumble home. Him? He has no home. Probably no one cares, either. It’s just...”

  “Or maybe he’s got a wife? Maybe he just drank too much? I don’t know about him, and you don’t either, but the first thing you thought was of suffering. That’s not Rodrigo.”

  She put her hands on his chest, pushing the laced opening apart and letting his skin warm her hands. “I just worry that you’re going down a dark path with no way to come back from it. It would be a tragedy if a heart as sweet and lovely as yours-”

  “It’s injustice,” he said softly. His eyes never left the sleeping man against the wall. “I think I never saw it before coming here. Not even in war did I see this. These people, they work and then they suffer under the heels of these lords who-”

  “There is injustice everywhere, dear heart, but now you’ve got something you can do about it.”

  “I do?” His voice was incredulous. “What is it?”

  “Look at him,” Elena said, pointing to John. “And at him” she indicated Gavin. “Well maybe not John right now because he’s occupied.” She giggled as Lynne and John were obviously enjoying themselves much more than either of the other two couples. “But those two men are doing something. They might not be changing the world every time they lift a finger, but at least they’re trying, and by God they made this town a better place. This awful sheriff who ruined so many lives? He’s powerless. Laird Macdonald and his scheme that would have done so much harm? Shamed by his own greed. That’s something, Rodrigo, and now you’re with them. Use this chance to make your soul whole again.”

  Her words obviously bit deep. Rodrigo chewed his lip and tried to process what she’d told him.

  “If that’s true, then I’m already helping people.”

  “You are! That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Rod. Alan, and getting Kenna and Gavin together was as much your deed as it was anyone else’s! The world isn’t going to change all at once, but you’re doing things
that make it a little better bit by bit.”

  As Rodrigo leaned back, his leather trousers sliding against the rough wood of a broken shutter that had fallen off the side of a building, he reached out and took hold of one of Elena’s hands, twining his fingers between hers. “Thank you,” he said softly.

  “For what?”

  “For talking to me and making all of this sensible. I couldn’t have done it without you. That’s for sure.”

  Elena watched Rodrigo’s face, studied the gentle lines in his cheeks as she stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips.

  “But we’ve got work to do. Or waiting to do, I suppose. We can’t sit here and talk all day. What if we miss him?”

  “Somehow I doubt we will.” Rodrigo’s eyes moved away from Elena’s face and off to the left, tracking something. “Look.”

  There, not fifty yards from the tip of his sword, was the man they pursued. Sheriff Alan bobbled out of a small inn, looking rather disheveled.

  “Almost noon,” Rodrigo said, grinning. “Time to get out of bed.” His hand went to the hilt of his rapier, but Elena grabbed him before he could unsheathe the weapon.

  “Remember what I said, alright?”

  “Yes, it’s just a habit of nerves. Trust me. He doesn’t see me. Either that, or he’s still too drunk to realize what’s going on. That’s always a possibility.”

  The sheriff turned his head and spat a stream of tobacco onto the road. Rodrigo grimaced, remembering all the times the sheriff made him cut chew.

  “He’s going toward Gavin. Do you think he’s noticed yet?”

  Rodrigo squinted against the high sun, shielded his eyes with a hand and tried to see. “Looks like has.”

  As Rodrigo watched, the hooded Gavin moved slowly toward where the sheriff was bumbling about in the road. The sheriff stepped in the puddle he’d just spat, and both Elena and Rodrigo recoiled at once. Then, he remembered the whistle they’d agreed to use when one group or another found the sheriff. He stuck his fingers in his mouth, and chirped rather like a grouse.