A Highlander's Second Chance: Highland Temptations

by Adams, Aileen

  “Absolutely not.” Perhaps he said it a bit louder than he needed to, judging by the way her eyes widened in surprise. He tried again, this time in a more normal tone. “Forgive me, I did not mean to startle ye. I assure ye, there is no need.”

  He left her then, hurrying from the dining hall and up to his chambers. He wished he’d thought to keep a store of food there, as he had once done as a lad. He had often kept apples, bits of cheese and bread, in a small box hidden beneath his pillow. If ever he needed something to eat.

  She had gotten to him, and that was a fact. Every time he told himself that it was folly to imagine she had been speaking seriously, he could not help but ask himself if that were true. If he were truly daft to take her at her word.

  If there was one thing he had already learned, it was that she rarely made a threat in vain. The woman knew what she was about, and she did not take kindly to those she felt looked down upon her either as a woman or as the person in command of the convent.

  But had it truly been a threat? He could just imagine her now, laughing to herself, knowing how he starved. Wanting nothing more than to teach him a lesson, as if he were a mere bairn in need of discipline.

  He decided he would rather starve full out, would rather waste away to nothing, than admit hunger. Than to look her in the face and admit she had found her way into his mind.

  And he managed to maintain this position…until several hours later, when he was certain the hunger pangs would drive him mad. There was a limit to his endurance.

  It was because of this that he once again found himself moving silently down dark corridors, taking pains to avoid notice. He simply had to eat, and if that meant stealing food from the kitchen while the others slept, that was simply what he would have to do.

  They could not have poisoned everything, could they? Of course not, for everyone else inside the convent walls needed to eat, as well.

  The kitchen was dark, the fires having been doused long since. Despite the seriousness of the situation and the gravity of his hunger, Clyde could not help but notice with a touch of pride how well Mary seemed to manage the place. It was nearly sparkling, with nary a crumb nor a soiled bowl in sight. Even the cooking pots had been scoured thoroughly, he noted as he passed them on his way to the larder.

  To his relief, he found an untouched loaf of bread and half a wheel of cheese sitting under a cloth. He bit off the end of the bread at once, then took the cheese and set both on one of the long, wooden tables the kitchen workers used while preparing meals.

  It was shameful, eating this way. Like he was nothing more than an animal. This was what she had reduced him to, he thought with a silent snarl as he tore off another hunk of bread with his teeth. She had reduced him to sneaking about the place as though he were little more than a thief in the night.

  “I had wondered how long it would take.”

  He whirled around, holding the knife he’d used to slice the cheese at the ready.

  Ailsa raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I mean you no harm,” she murmured with a smile in her voice.

  What had he expected? Naturally, she would find a way to make a mockery of what she had reduced him to. “You were following me, then.”

  “I was concerned for you.” She crossed the large room and came to a stop before him. As she had the night they met, she wore a heavy mantle over her shift, as though she had been preparing to sleep.

  “Should ye not be in bed, dressed as ye are?” He gestured to her using the hand holding the knife. He was no longer embarrassed to see her this way, though he had been that first night. He knew her too well now.

  “To be honest, I had left my chambers with the intention of visiting you.”

  He snorted, his mouth full. Once he’d swallowed, he said, “Be careful. A man could draw the wrong idea.”

  For the first time, she blushed not in anger but in embarrassment. “I did not mean it that way.”

  “I know ye did not.” He leaned on the table, the food forgotten for the moment, but not for long, as he had only awoken the fullness of his appetite with what he had eaten so far. “Well? What was your intention, then?”

  She frowned, and he noticed the way she toyed with the cuffs of her mantle. As though she were at a loss. It was a rare sight, indeed. “I…felt sorry for what happened. I know you have not been eating since last we spoke.”

  “Och, I suppose I should have expected that. Ye would have asked Mary to report back to you.”

  “Not at all. But she did come to me, and she was concerned. I thought you might take my warning to heart, and I admit at the time I wanted you to. But now that my anger has cooled, I thought I should tell you that I never intended to put anything in your food, nor did I intend to instruct any of the girls to do so. You have my word. I would never stoop to such measures, not even out of anger.”

  He managed to hide his relief. “Am I supposed to be grateful to ye for this?” he asked just the same. If he allowed her to see how glad this made him, all would be lost. He could hardly thank her for allowing him to eat.

  She stammered for a moment, her blush deepening as she searched for something to say, but before long, she burst out laughing. And as he’d noticed before, she looked and sounded like a mere slip of a lass when she laughed that way. He even found himself laughing with her.

  Then she looked over what little was left of what he’d found in the larder and sighed. “That is not enough for you, anyone can see that. Wait here.” She disappeared for a moment, rummaging about in the darkness, and returned with half a roasted goose. “They were very generous with us during this delivery,” she observed as she placed the platter before him.

  He had already pulled one of the drumsticks from the goose and taken a bite from it before thinking to ask. “Who are they? Ye have never told me, and neither did McTavish.”

  “I have not told you, because I do not know what to say.” She shrugged, perching on a stool placed beside the table. “I do not know names. I received a scroll with instructions and was escorted here by a pair of guards in Scottish uniform. And ever since my arrival, the girls have followed, and deliveries of food and garments and other goods have arrived regularly. I suppose it is their way of keeping themselves safe, whoever they are.”

  He saw the sense in this, yet what she had just described made him extremely angry. “All right for them, remaining safe and comfortable while you take such risks,” he grunted around a mouthful of goose.

  “It is no less of a risk for them,” she reminded him in a gentle tone. “If anyone were to discover they were behind this, they would hang just as I would.”

  He chuckled. “Surely, ye dinna believe they would hang a woman.”

  Her expression did not change. “I certainly do.”

  He shrugged, unwilling to believe it. “Ye are safe enough here, in Scotland. I dinna believe you have anything to fear.”

  “I am glad you see it that way. But I think we both know it is possible for terrible things to befall a person no matter where a person happens to be. Innocent people are killed all the time, are they not? All because of who they are believed to be, or because of the harm they might one day bring. Or because they happen to be a relation of someone, an enemy, perhaps.”

  He chewed more slowly, thoughtfully. “Is that what happened for ye? With your husband?”

  She chuckled humorlessly, waving a hand. “My Thomas knew the danger he courted by going about his work. We both knew.”

  He wished more than ever to ask her for more, to finally learn what it was she kept from him. He had the feeling, strange and inexplicable though it was, that he would finally understand her if he could only learn how she had come to know the things she knew.

  And what had happened to turn her into the woman she had become. A woman who still laughed as gaily as a lass, yet who always seemed to wear a cloak of sadness.

  He understood sadness all too well. And loss.

  Yet he had the sense that were he to ask, she wou
ld shut herself off from him yet again. He would not risk that.

  Though why it mattered, he could not say.

  Rather than ask himself what it all meant, he returned to his meal, and they spoke pleasantly for at least a little while. That was enough.

  13

  “And where were you educated?” Ailsa stared at Fenella, her eyes as sharp as her voice. “Answer me.”

  “My governess instructed me in reading and writing,” Fenella replied, her voice cool. “That was all my father allowed I should be permitted to learn. I am quite fond of poetry and was allowed a singing teacher in my youth.”

  “No French? No embroidery? No harpsichord?”

  Fenella’s smile was unwavering. “I am afraid I have no ear for language. My mother endeavored to teach me, as she spent time in France as a girl, but I fear I made a dreadful fool of myself whenever I tried to speak it. I insulted an old family friend when I told him his new waistcoat made him look bulbous.”

  The girls giggled from their places around the room, but Ailsa did not so much as smirk. A good lie, she thought, one which would inspire humor and might distract from the questioning she could find herself under.

  “I embroider quite beautifully,” she added, then blushed and lowered her gaze. “Though I am afraid vanity compels me to say so.”

  The perfect touch. Feminine, delicate. “Well done.” Ailsa grinned. “If only we could have a few instruments about the place, so that I could truly make you all into fine ladies.”

  She sighed, taking a seat. “But it is difficult enough to obtain potatoes and turnips which are not already half-rotted. I doubt the delivery of a harpsichord would go smoothly.”

  But she believed they were doing very well, all of them. Most of the young women had now been in her care for at least four months, some as long as half a year, and they had all learned to speak gently, to banter wittily. They knew the difference between a duke, an earl, and a marquess. She had taught them all of the dances she knew, knowing well that the easiest way to make the acquaintance of important men was to know how to conduct oneself at a ball.

  It had been so long since she had been to a ball, and she feared her knowledge of dance was hopelessly outdated. But short of attending a ball in person, there was little she could do. She considered sending several of her most trusted and skilled students to London, including Mary and Jamesina, so that they might learn what Ailsa had missed in the last ten years.

  She suspected there was quite a lot, but she did not dare show her face in society. Not when she might easily be recognized, thanks to her birthmark.

  “Remember, few men will expect a woman to possess true intelligence or to be truly learned, and they will never expect her to have an opinion. Young women of the sort you are pretending to be are educated just far enough that they might be considered accomplished in the eyes of an eligible man. They might understand how a household is managed, but they are not expected to do the work for themselves. There are maids and servants to attend to these matters on their behalf. And it will not do, under any circumstances, to engage in a debate with a gentleman on any matter. You do not want to be remembered. You must be comely enough and engaging enough to garner a man’s interest, but you cannot remain in his memory once you have parted ways. Do you understand?”

  All two dozen of them nodded as one, hanging on her every word. Some of them looked nearly hungry to be started, to go out into the world and practice what they had learned. In a way, she almost envied them, for they were young enough and innocent enough to look upon all of this as an adventure.

  The way she once had.

  She knew they would be called upon to perform the services they’d been trained for soon enough, and it worried her so. But she could not allow them to know it. They had to be confident, utterly sure of themselves.

  She dismissed them, knowing they had their lessons with Clyde. He would be waiting, no doubt, pacing the courtyard as he tended to do when they kept him longer than he expected.

  Impatient man. But valuable, as she’d watched the previous day’s work and was pleased to see several of the girls disarm their would-be attacker. In other words, Clyde himself, and Ailsa knew he would not go easy on them. The girls had earned their achievement.

  He’d done wonders in a little under two months. The weather was warming, the days growing longer. This allowed more time spent out of doors, in the sunshine and fresh air, which could only help the girls grow stronger as they worked tirelessly to improve themselves.

  They were so eager, so determined. And once again her heart clenched when she told herself they hadn’t the first idea what they were going to encounter.

  When she followed the girls out of the room, intending to watch from above as they practiced, Clyde surprised her. Instead of waiting in the courtyard as she’d imagined, he was standing outside the door.

  “You startled me,” she said with a laugh. “I believed you would be putting the girls through their instruction.”

  “Mary is leading them at the moment,” he explained. “I hope ye will not take offense to hear it, but I waited out here and listened as ye described to them what would be expected once they have gone on a mission.”

  She shrugged, and the two of them began walking toward the stairs side by side. “Why would I take offense to that?”

  He snorted. “Ye have taken offense to less than that before.”

  She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Now, I thought we were beyond that. We’ve been getting along so well. Do not be the one to break the peace.”

  “It was hardly my intention to break the peace, which is why I said I hope ye did not take offense.”

  She chuckled, knowing there was no point in arguing. Their history had taught her they would only go in circles, like a pair of dogs chasing each other around the tree. On and on they would go, always arriving at the place where they had begun without ever having settled anything.

  “What did you think?” she prompted, knowing he must have brought it up for a reason but was likely uncertain of how to proceed. After weeks of being in the other’s presence, he still found it difficult at times to find his voice.

  He spoke slowly, choosing his words with obvious care. “I believe ye seem quite knowledgeable about English society and what the gentlemen your students will meet expect from a young lady of means.”

  That sounded fair to her ears. “Yes, I do. One of many things I had to learn.” Though she did not tell him when, or why. She had so far been successful in keeping herself apart and away from him, in avoiding discussion that might lead to the past.

  “Do ye believe every mission will have girls traveling in such esteemed company?” he asked.

  “I wish I could say. The best I can do is prepare them to travel in that company, and hope they can manage the rest. Perhaps they might be called upon to serve in a household. I have already instructed them in that, as you know. Perhaps they might be nothing more than a peddler on the street, called upon to sell a nobleman a flask of tainted wine. I truly do not know. I suppose we will all need to call upon a bit of faith.”

  He snickered. “Faith. I canna tell ye the last time I had faith in anything. Certain times in a man’s life tend to rob him of his faith.”

  “Yet you are here. You are still here with us. That must mean you have faith in something, or someone.”

  She happened to look at him just then and found him looking back at her. There was an intensity in his gaze which she had never seen before. A deeper meaning, perhaps. Or something he wished to say but was unable to find the words to do so.

  Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps this was nothing more than the result of a tired, overwrought mind.

  “Were ye a spy against the English?”

  She came to a halt, staring at him in horror and surprise and more than a slight bit of anger, for he might not have put it so plainly where anyone might hear. Fortunately for both of them, the girls were in the courtyard. She could hear them sparring and thrustin
g and dodging from the stairs.

  “Why would you ask that? What a question!” She positioned herself several stairs above him, leaving them as close to eye level as they ever would be.

  “I could not help myself. It seems to me that ye know so verra much about the English. Their manners, their customs and such, and it seemed only logical that ye have spent a great deal of time among them.”

  Was this true? Could she take him at his word? Or was he doing everything in his power to confuse and mislead her?

  She searched his face for some answer, her heart sinking all the while. She had come to rely on him too much, she now knew. To rely on his opinion, his company. He was the only person in the convent she could regard as an equal, after all, so it stood to reason that they would become friends.

  Did it not? She’d told herself so, but now she was beginning to question her reasoning.

  What did he know? Had she unwittingly befriended the enemy?

  “Have you heard something about me?” she asked, her eyes still darting back and forth over his face. It was a face she had grown accustomed to, seeing it every day. She had even begun to understand what Mary meant when she professed to no longer noticing his scar. It was simply…Clyde. Part of him.

  The way his brows drew together, his eyes creasing at the corners, told her she’d confused him. Good thing, and it brought her relief. For if he had appeared to expect her reaction, she would know for certain that he’d lied to her. He was a threat.

  “What is there to know about ye? I’m afraid I don’t—”

  “Do not trouble your head with it. I was wrong. I have things to attend to.” Rather than continuing down the stairs with him, she turned and dashed up the stairs instead. Anything to be away from him, from his probing eyes. From the questions which would surely arise from her having misspoken.

  She ought to have known better. Was she truly so terribly out of practice that she’d all but revealed herself as possessing a secret when all he had done was ask an innocent question? Anyone might have asked her that very thing, and they would have had every reason to do so. She did know a great deal about English life, because she’d been born and raised there.