“I miss her family. My mum never had much care for me,” Nicholas said.
Rowan didn’t know how to respond to that quiet confession. How could a mother not care for her child?
Raucous laughter burst from the cluster of men gathered around a table near the hearth, breaking the quiet moment.
“Duncan, you have not got your ale yet,” Nicholas said, rising from his pensive place at Rowan’s side. “Shall I get us all some?”
Rowan shook her head but Scotia accepted. Duncan did, too, though he scowled at Scotia, then looked to Rowan for help.
“Scotia, do you not have to get back to your mum?” she asked, all the innocence in her voice she could muster.
“Jeanette told me she was fine for a few hours. I have not been here that long. I’ll have an ale,” she said to Nicholas, rising from her seat and touching Nicholas’s arm. “I shall even help you fetch it.”
Duncan rolled his eyes as the girl smiled up at Nicholas as if he were a god, not some laborer who’d happened by their castle as he wandered lost in the Highlands. Rowan kept her smile to herself. Duncan had such high expectations of Scotia, yet she let him down again and again without even realizing it. Maybe someday Scotia would grow up enough to realize Duncan’s gruffness with her hid deeper feelings. Just how deep, Rowan didn’t know, and perhaps he did not either. But Scotia would test the patience of Job and Duncan was the closest they had to that man.
Rowan sighed.
“You like him,” Duncan said, sliding toward her on the bench until only the basket of wool separated them.
“You do not?” she asked, sidestepping the answer that seemed all too obvious.
He considered her question for a long moment, then, in his understated way, dipped his head. “He’ll do. Do you trust him?”
It was Rowan’s turn to ponder the question. The truth was, she did, but she couldn’t say exactly why. Did she trust him only because she wanted to? The man affected her like no one she’d ever met before, making her feel cared for, protected, desired even when she had not known she wanted to feel those things.
He made her blood sing with kisses and smiles. He had lifted her from worry and care more than once with something as simple as a smile or a gently teasing remark. And then there was the pleasure of looking upon his fine countenance.
But did she trust him?
“I want to. My instinct is to trust him, but I fear I know too little about him to truly do so. Does that make sense?”
“Aye. I have the same thought. He has done naught to keep me from trusting him, but that in itself makes me wonder if he is trying too hard to win my trust.”
Rowan laughed. “So you would rather he create a little mischief in order for you to trust him?” Nicholas and Scotia were returning from the far end of the hall, laughing at something as if they were boon friends. “If he is not careful, Scotia will insure he tests your trust, Duncan.”
“She does have that impact on a man, but to my mind he’s got his eye set on another.”
Rowan almost dropped her spindle but caught it deftly. She kept her head down as Nicholas handed a tankard to Duncan, then slid between Rowan and Scotia, who’d taken a new seat far away from the once more scowling Duncan.
“Nicholas,” Scotia said, “did I not tell you he’d be scowling when we returned?” She nodded at Duncan.
“Aye, you did, minx. I suppose I shall have to dance with you next time the opportunity arises.”
“That was the wager.”
“You wagered I’d not be scowling when you got back?” Duncan said to Nicholas, shaking his head. “Where this one is concerned, it is my most common expression.”
Nicholas laughed and Rowan rolled the new thread on her spindle and tucked it into a fold of her arisaid. “ ’Tis the common expression of everyone where Scotia is concerned, except for her mum.”
Scotia stuck her tongue out at Rowan and they all laughed at her childish response.
“You need something to keep you busy,” Scotia said to Duncan. “Then you could keep that sour look off your face.”
“You keep us all busy enough. This one, too.” He jabbed a thumb in Nicholas’s direction.
“I have not given you any trouble, have I?” Nicholas asked. “Except that you would have preferred to stay outside in the rain when I wished to come inside.”
“Duncan! You would keep our guest out in the rain?” Rowan feigned disappointment in her voice.
“It was not my—”
“He is a hard-hearted man,” Scotia said, mocking him, too.
“Och, lasses, do not be too hard on the man. He has been greatly busy making sure I am not trying to bring harm to the clan or the castle, though I am encouraged to harm that damn pile of stone as much as I like.”
The three of them were chuckling and giggling at Duncan’s spluttering defense of his actions.
“Fine. Yes, I had no care for this rogue who is sure to bring the castle and all of us who live here to our knees. And Scotia is exactly the minx he deems her to be, requiring constant vigilance lest she join forces with the English to conquer the Highlands one man at a time. At least you, Rowan, cause me no suffering.”
His comments had Scotia’s face red, her ire clear in the icy glare she aimed at him. Nicholas had gone oddly silent, too, so only Rowan was left quietly chuckling.
“That will teach the two of you to poke a quiet bear.” As much as she was enjoying the teasing and the company, she had things that needed tending. She tucked the wool basket under the bench and rose, bending to give Duncan a quick kiss on his bristly cheek. “You do a fine job of watching over all of us. I thank you as I know Uncle Kenneth does, too, else he would not give you such arduous chores. Scotia, I am going to get dinner for Auntie Elspet and Jeanette. Shall I bring enough for you, too?”
“Nay. I shall eat here. Perhaps Nicholas will keep me company?”
Nicholas laughed. “You shall have to ask Duncan if that is acceptable.”
“At least I can keep an eye on both of you at the same time that way. I suppose ’tis acceptable.”
Scotia smiled, transforming herself from childlike to a glowing, beautiful young woman. Rowan was always stunned by that transformation and knew that if Scotia were aware of it, she’d shed the childish behavior and would have even more men at her feet. The poleaxed look on Duncan’s face confirmed it. She looked to see if Nicholas was equally enamored, but found him watching her.
“May I help you take the meal up to your aunt’s chamber? With Duncan’s permission, of course.”
She sought out Duncan’s gaze, raising her eyebrows, their brief conversation now being tested.
Duncan nodded. “You shall return here directly. Do not make me come looking for you, Nicholas.”
Nicholas grinned. “I would not, Duncan. Will Uilliam or the chief give you trouble for it?”
Duncan shook his head. “They trust me.”
The implication was clear in Duncan’s voice and Rowan wondered if he was giving Nicholas room to prove himself untrustworthy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NICHOLAS FORCED HIMSELF to move more slowly than he wished as they gathered Lady Elspet’s meal. He was sure Duncan’s sudden test—for there was no doubt in Nicholas’s mind that this was a test—was in some way Rowan’s doing. Was it that because she trusted him, so Duncan did as well? It should not matter why she had convinced Duncan he was trustworthy. He should not care what her motivations were, merely that he was achieving what he had set out to do, but he did care. She was not another in a long line of women to be manipulated, used. She was strong, loyal, and kissed so sweetly.
He clenched his fists hard enough to feel the bite of his nails against his palms. He couldn’t care. She could be no more than any other woman to him, a means to an end, no more. He was a fool if he let her mean more than that. And he was no fool.
Rowan quickly assembled a fresh pot of broth and a bit of meat. She handed bowls, spoons, and a small basket of bannocks to Ni
cholas, then led the way across the sloppy bailey, thick with frigid puddles and sucking mud. Keeping everything as dry as possible in the still heavy rain was a challenge. They stopped just inside the tower while Rowan took off the cloak she had snagged from someone in the kitchen and hung it on a hook near the door.
She turned back to him and his heart almost stopped at the sight of her fresh-faced beauty, so different from the women at Edward’s court.
The curve of her cheek and her long lashes, darker now that the rain had wet them, were accentuated by the flickering torchlight. The rain had her hair wilder than usual with the damp. It clung about her face, adding lacy embellishments to her pale skin.
He stepped toward her, only then remembering that his arms were full with dinner. Perhaps he was a fool. He gave her a wry smile.
“We should get this to the Lady while it is still hot.”
Rowan swallowed. “Aye. Follow me.”
She led him up the turnstile stair, passing a landing on their way. He tried to look down the short corridor as they passed it but could not linger to take stock of what he saw.
At the top floor he followed Rowan into a large room that should have been used as a solar, but there was a large bed on the opposite wall. Lady Elspet slept in the midst of it. She was covered with several blankets and was so frail she looked more like a child than the wife of the chief. Jeanette rose from a stool set near the bed and took the provisions from him.
“Thank you for helping Rowan bring the meal,” she said, casting a questioning glance at her cousin. Rowan and Jeanette quietly arranged the food near the hearth. They exchanged a few whispered words that he could not make out, but if the looks that Jeanette kept sending his way were any indication, he was the topic. He smiled at her but she looked away.
As they returned to the door Jeanette said, “Where is Scotia?”
“She was in the great hall when last we saw her, holding court as best she could with the auld men and boys,” Rowan said.
“What are we to do with her? She shall get herself in trouble that even we cannot get her out of if she keeps on the way she has.”
Nicholas agreed, but did not say so.
“I cannot promise to keep her in line,” he said, “but have already offered Duncan my help in keeping an eye on her. He worries, too.”
Jeanette looked to Rowan for a decision.
“Duncan has always had a soft spot for Scotia, ever since she was a bairn, but he cannot keep an eye on her all the time any more than the rest of us can,” Rowan said. “Thank you. With Auntie so ill, we are all distracted from our usual tasks.”
“Like minding your cousin.” He shook his head. “I do not think she appreciates how much you all watch over her.”
“ ‘Appreciate’ would not be the right word,” Jeanette said with a rueful smile. “Detest? Hate? What do you think, Ro?”
“ ‘Hate’ seems right, but she tolerates Duncan and she might well welcome braw Nicholas’s attention.” Rowan was teasing him again and he felt a pull between them that was not overtly sexual, but was compelling nonetheless.
“I’ll watch my step, and hers.”
Jeanette placed an oddly calming hand on his forearm. “You are a good man, Nicholas of Achnamara.” She smiled at him. “I think ’twas a good wind that brought you to Dunlairig.”
Nicholas swallowed. She would not think so when he had finished his task.
AS THEY REACHED the bottom of the stair, Rowan reached for her cloak at the same moment Nicholas did, startling at the touch of his hand upon hers.
“Let me,” he said, plucking the heavy wool cloak from the hook and settling it on her shoulders with a flourish. He reached for the ties and tugged her close with them. The heat of his hands resting under her chin reminded her of when she was a child and Elspet would tie her cloak for her.
“She is as much your mother as theirs, is she not?” he asked, his head ducked so he could catch her eye.
“Aye. She has been my mother longer than my real mum was.” She allowed herself to rest her chin against his hands, stopping just short of rubbing against them like a cat.
“You lost both your parents at the same time?”
“I did. I do not remember much about that, though. I am told Kenneth found me wandering in the woods near our cottage and brought me here, but I do not remember any of that.” And no one had ever explained what had happened, not specifically, and she had only asked once. “I am told ’twas an accident and I was spared.”
He let his thumb run along her jaw and she could tell he watched the movement. “You were so young, it must have been hard to come here all alone.”
“You were young when you left your home, too. You ken how hard that is.”
“Aye,” he smiled but it was wistful and he looked as if he was seeing something other than Rowan, as if he looked back at that time. “ ’Twas the hardest thing I had ever done.”
“Exactly, but everyone here was very kind to me. Elspet and Jeanette especially, but it was Uncle Kenneth who tamed me.”
“Tamed you? I cannot imagine such a need.”
She laughed a little at the memory and he smiled so wide the creases in his cheeks showed deep. She reached up and ran a finger along one of them and he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. A thrill ran through her. Here was a strong man who gentled to her touch like the mousers that lived in the stable. It was not something she could have imagined, nor the feeling of power that accompanied his reaction.
His hands still held the ties of her cloak and with them, he pulled her gently closer, until she was so close she could lean slightly and rest against his chest, which she did, letting the strength and heat and scent of him surround her. All thoughts left her mind as he leaned down, kissing her as he’d done before, gently, as if asking for permission. She closed her eyes and sighed, and he took advantage, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. Instinct took over as she followed where he led down a sensuous path filled with the heat of his body, so close to hers, the taste of him, and that earthy scent that now spoke to her only of him.
An unfamiliar need raced through her and that same restlessness that had followed her out of her dream of him had her wanting more even as he gentled the kiss. He nibbled on her lips for a moment, then leaned his forehead against hers. As soon as his lips left hers, she became aware of the rapid beat of her heart and a sense of having been taken out of her body, then dropped back in, a different person than when she had started.
“I am sorry, Rowan.” His voice was raspy. “I should not have done that, but I could not keep myself from it.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and she couldn’t stop herself from following its path with the tip of her tongue.
Her mind was racing. He was not the first man who had stolen a kiss from her, but never had she experienced a kiss that shook her so. She could not manage to speak, nor did she move. Why didn’t he move if he was sorry for kissing her? And it was then that she realized she had a firm grip on both of his arms. She took a deep breath and released him, stepping back until there was more space between them than she wanted.
“I am not sorry,” she said. She looked at the floor between them for a long moment. “I have been hoping you would do that again.”
She glanced up to see his reaction to her confession, only to find him grinning like a fool.
“You were, huh?”
She nodded quickly and knew her pale complexion was giving away her embarrassment. He stepped close again but didn’t touch her this time.
“So you might let me do that again?” he asked, the grin still on his face, but a more sober hopeful look in his eyes.
“Aye.”
He touched her cheek, running a finger down it as she had done to him, leaving a trail of sensation in its wake she would not soon forget.
“I would like that very much.” Her voice was breathless even to her own ears.
“As would I,” he said as he brushed her lips with his own one more time, lightly. “Bu
t I fear we must return to the hall before Duncan sends a search party after us.” He sighed and quickly tied her cloak, his knuckles sending ripples of joy against her skin. A smile played about his lips, lips that had been so soft against hers, lips that had roused such heat deep within her. And that damned restlessness.
“We should get back,” she said, looking deeply into his dark-brown eyes. Neither moved for a long moment, awareness crackling between them, until they both sighed and headed back into the rainy bailey.
THE NEXT MORNING, just after sunrise, Nicholas sat on the damp rubble amidst muddy puddles left from yesterday’s downpour. He hadn’t slept much, tossing and turning the night away. When he did sleep he dreamed of Rowan, of her soft skin and silky hair. In his dreams he kissed her, laughed with her, made love to her. In his dreams he betrayed her, and King Edward killed her and all the good people of the castle. In his dreams what started with kisses and passion ended in rivers of blood.
He thrust his fingers into his hair, scraping it back savagely from his face, and turned his thoughts away from his fractured dreams to the cause of them. Today the sun shone and Duncan had loosened his leash enough to give Nicholas a sense of freedom, though he knew it was only a pretense. He could see neither Duncan nor Uilliam but he’d wager a king’s ransom he was still being watched.
He’d finally gotten a look inside the tower last night. He’d spent much of the night, when he wasn’t dreaming, going over everything he’d seen, making sure he had a map of it firmly etched into his brain, for he had to return there, had to find that pouch that Lady Elspet had at the blessing. It might not be the Highland Targe, unless his prize was not an actual shield. He wouldn’t know until he got a good look at it.
This would be a good time for Archie to return, offering some distraction, and cover as a new stranger in their midst, to be watched, but the man wasn’t here, at least not inside the castle.
A commotion at the stable drew his attention away from his musings and the unexpectedly strong kick of his conscience over the consequences of completing his mission. A lad Nicholas had not met led a shaggy, saddled Highland pony to the tower door. The stableboy stood there, talking to the pony and scratching its forehead for long moments until finally the door opened. Scotia led the way. Next came Jeanette with Lady Elspet. Her great frailness gave harsh evidence of her ill health. Pale Jeanette held her mother, one arm wrapped around the woman’s waist, the other cupping her elbow, as if Lady Elspet would shatter should she so much as stumble.
Highlander Betrayed (Guardians of the Targe) Page 10