Highland Hawk: Highland Brides #7

by Lois Greiman

  He raised his brows. Or possibly just one, since the other seemed unreasonably weary. “You are sadly mistaken, old one.”

  “And you were a poor liar when sober. Pathetic when intoxicated,” she said and drank.

  “Intoxicated?” he tried to sound shocked, but it may have only come out as groggy. “Nay. I am only…” He was only what? Only too old for her by a score of years and had been ordered by royal decree to guard her? “I only wish to protect her.”

  The ancient eyes were dead earnest as she leaned forward to gaze into his. “Protect her from what, lad?”

  “I do not know.” He shook his head. The room swayed. “I do not know. But I feel her sadness and I am certain there is something she is not telling me.”

  She stared at him long and hard as if judging his very soul. “And what if I told you that you are right, lad? That she needs your help? Would you forsake all to come to her aid?”

  “I have already sworn to protect her,” he said, baffled by her words.

  “Aye, you have sworn. But when the hammer strikes the anvil, will you hold true?” she mused.

  “What?” During the enforced inactivity of his childhood it had been Haydan’s place to speak in riddles, but just now he could not seem to speak at all, and the table kept rising toward his chin.

  Then he felt her gnarled fingers grasp his jaw in a firm grip. “What are you made of, Haydan the Hawk?” she asked.

  Even if he had known what she spoke of he could not have formed a coherent answer, for the room kept dipping strangely. Nevertheless, she spoke again.

  “You may do, lad. You drink like a milk-fed babe, but when the fat hits the fire you may yet do,” she said, and pulling away her hand, let his head drop to the table.

  Chapter 18

  Haydan awoke groggily. His pillow felt hard and strangely damp, his neck stiff and his head woolen.

  “Sophie said there was something left over in the kitchens.”

  He sat up with a start to stare into Kitchen Elsie’s amused eyes. For a moment all sense deserted him, and then reality struck. He had spent the night slumped over the table. And Marta? He glanced blearily over at the opposite bench and saw that spot had been vacated.

  “Hard night, laddie?”

  Good Christmas, he couldn’t even outdrink an old crone. And what idiocies had he spewed before he fell into unconsciousness? Get her drunk indeed! Learn Catriona’s secrets! More likely the old wench now knew he was having wet dreams over her great-granddaughter. He was lucky she hadn’t smacked him over the head with the empty keg of ale. On the other hand, she very well might have, judging by the throbbing in his head. Lifting his hand to his aching cranium, he felt for any gaping wounds.

  ” ‘Tis still there,” Elsie assured him.

  “What?”

  “Your head,” she said. Shifting the hollowed wooden bowl that rested on one plump hip, she grinned. ” ‘Tis still attached.”

  “I know it’s still attached,” he said, not daring to scowl at her, lest his skull burst open and spill his dubious brains onto the table. “It hurts like hell.”

  “Could be you’re too old to drink the night through, Sir Hawk. What was wrong with your bed?”

  “Besides the fact that it was empty?”

  She chuckled low in her throat. “Empty of you or empty of another?”

  “Empty,” he said flatly.

  “I think there might be some who could help you with the latter.”

  “That an offer, Elsie?”

  Her grin was suggestive. “It may be. Didn’t know you were interested. But I have a night available now and again.”

  “I may be too old to fight for the honor.”

  “Could be I’d do the fighting for you.”

  ” ‘Tis good to know since—”

  “Elsie, I—”

  “James!” Haydan choked and straightened quickly enough to make his head throb and his back creak.

  “Sir Hawk!” James came to an abrupt halt, causing the guards behind him to do the same. “Hawk,” he repeated, continuing into the kitchen. “You look worse off than you did before. What ails you?”

  ” ‘Tis naught,” Haydan assured him, but his voice cracked, so he rose abruptly to his feet and tried again, though his head clanged ominously at such an egregious offense. ” ‘Tis naught, Your Majesty. Why are you about so early?”

  “To break the fast.”

  “Is there some reason the meal could not be brought to your room this morn?” What kind of luck would bring the lad here when he was in such mind-boggled disarray?

  “I am bound for the stables,” James said.

  “And why so early?”

  “Galloway said Lady Cat goes out in the morn to see her mare.”

  Haydan exchanged a glance with the young guard. “Did he now?”

  “Aye,” James said and took the hot scones Elsie had already fetched for him. “Galloway knows all about Lady Cat.”

  The red-haired guard cleared his throat. “I but noticed that the maid tends her steed just after dawn.”

  Haydan turned toward Galloway just as James turned away. It could very well be that the young guard might know something Haydan did not. “Anything else you have observed?” he asked, focusing all his attention on the guard’s freckled face.

  Galloway shuffled his feet. “There are a few things, Sir Hawk.”

  “Such as?”

  The young man cleared his throat. “For a Gypsy she seems… quite honorable.”

  “And?”

  The guard squirmed under Haydan’s glare. “She has the most bonny eyes in all the world.”

  Good saints! Yet, if an old reprobate like himself was cast adrift by her slightest attention, how much more would this poor young swain be affected? “I meant have you noticed any of her other—”

  But James turned back just then. “Would you like to accompany me to the stables, Sir Hawk?”

  For a moment Haydan’s heart sped along at a faster clip. All he need do was to walk out to the stable and she would be there for him to see, to speak to, and make certain she was well. But his neck crinked, reminding him of his wrinkled appearance. He could hardly greet her this way. At the very least he would have to rid himself of his beard and…

  He was acting like a hang-jaw lackey again. “Nay,” he said. “I have… business to tend to. And a swordsmanship lesson to give a young king.”

  The lad scowled. “Surely it can wait,” he said, his tone wheedling.

  “I suppose it will not hurt to delay it a bit,” Haydan admitted, but in his own traitorous mind he was already hurrying through the list of necessities before he too could rush out to the stables.

  God help him, he thought as James exited the hall with his guards close behind him.

  Back in his own chamber, Haydan hurried through his toiletry, taking a pumice stone to his whiskers, tying back his hair. A silent reprimand rasped through his mind for his hurry, but he stilled it. After all, ‘twas his job to ascertain the young king’s safety. ‘Twas good for him to be at the lad’s side, he thought and he hurried down the steps toward the stable. His boots rang against the flagstones in the courtyard. From a nearby alcove the sweet sound of a lute filled the air.

  Haydan glanced in that direction and saw Rory strolling along with the bottle-shaped instrument against his chest. Nodding, Haydan continued on. The music stopped. “You are looking more the hawk this morn,” said the Rom.

  Haydan halted. “What say you?’

  Rory gave a crooked grin. He was a handsome lad, which did little to improve Haydan’s mood.

  “I could have told you, you would get nothing from Grandmother last night.”

  “Get nothing?” Haydan asked, struggling to keep his tone casual.

  Rory shrugged, his expression disarming. “She can be as tight-lipped as a monk.”

  “Hardly tight-lipped,” Haydan said. “Indeed, Blackburn’s ale supply is much depleted since last eve.”

  Rory laughed. “Oh, ay
e, she can drink her weight in ale. Yet still she told you nothing, aye?”

  “Told me nothing of what?”

  The Rom’s gaze didn’t flinch. “About Catriona. ‘Tis what you wished to know, is it not?”

  Haydan said nothing, but Rory only shrugged. “You are hardly the first mouse to be snared by the Cat.”

  “I think you are imagining things.”

  “Then you have no interest in her?”

  “On the contrary, I owe her a great debt of gratitude.”

  “So you only wish to help her?”

  “What help could I give her?” he asked, his tone tighter than he wished it to be.

  “I think mayhap that is for my Catriona to decide.”

  Careful now. Careful.

  “Mayhap your Catriona is too cautious,” Haydan warned. “I would help her if I could.”

  The Rom was silent for a moment. “Nay, it seems she yet depends on me to mend her wounds. And ‘tis right, of course. For despite her flights of fancy, I am the one she shall wed,” he said. Giving Haydan a hard stare, he turned to walk away.

  “Lady Cat.”

  Catriona turned abruptly from her gelding. “Your

  Majesty,” she said. “You are about early.” ‘Twas indeed early for the young king to be in the stables, but ‘twas good that he was here away from the prying eyes of the nobles who surrounded him.

  “I am come to practice my horsemanship,” he said.

  “Are you, now?”

  “Aye.” He grinned. “I thought I would see if I could damage the remainder of my person.”

  ” ‘Tis a lot to ask on an empty stomach.”

  “But mine is filled with scones and honey mead.”

  “Ah, then why delay?” she asked. “Unless Sir Hawk would object to more injuries.”

  “He gave his blessing.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye, so we may as well be started.”

  Catriona acquiesced, for her time was rapidly slipping away, and fate or God Himself had delivered the lad into her hands.

  Though the hour was early and Bay was less than jovial about leaving his stablemates, James was an enthusiastic student and a determined horseman. With a little coaching he improved his ability to launch into the saddle and became increasingly adept at cuing the gelding for his spectacular leaps and strikes.

  The sun was halfway up the morning sky when James slipped over the gelding’s rump for the final time.

  Galloway and Cockerel stood against the stone stable wall as they watched their young ward.

  “So I am ready,” James said, his freckled face still flushed from exertion.

  “Ready?” Catriona patted the gelding’s neck and loosened his girth. “For what, Your Majesty?’

  “For our adventure.”

  Cat’s heart bumped abruptly against her ribs as her hands fumbled with the saddle straps. “Adventure?” she asked, skimming her gaze breathlessly toward the guards.

  “Aye,” James said, his own gaze cutting toward Galloway. “I’ve decided I want to do it on my birthday.”

  She tightened her grip on the stirrup leather. “Do what, exactly?”

  His grin was effusive, his eyes alight with mischief. “We will sneak from the castle, of course. Just you and I.”

  For a moment she forgot to breathe.

  ” ‘Twill be the perfect opportunity, with all the festivities. ‘Twill be marvelous. No one will know that I am freed.”

  “But what if we are caught?” ‘Twas not her place to dissuade him, she thought frantically.

  “You shall bring him to us,” Blackheart had said. “Just you and the young king. Or your brother will know us very well indeed before he dies.”

  “We will not be caught,” James whispered. “You are of Durril’s wild blood. Surely you can see this done in the dark of the night.”

  “I…” ‘Twas what she needed to do, but terror and guilt gripped her in a tight fist. She spurred her gaze sideways as fear pumped through her. She was certain there would be a guard there to drag her to the gallows. “But what of the Hawk?”

  James shrugged. “I am here alone. I think he has other things on his mind. Or perhaps he is ill.”

  “Ill?” she rasped.

  Galloway removed himself from the wall to stride across the springy turf toward them. “Is something amiss?”

  “Nay,” they said in unison.

  “Nay,” Cat repeated, her gut burning with bile and fear. “I but wondered why Sir Hawk is not here. Is it true that he is ill?”

  “I do not know,” Galloway said.

  “He did not insist on accompanying me here,” James said. “And he looked the color of the moat in midsummer.”

  “The Hawk sick?” Catriona asked. ‘Twould be best for her plans if he was well out of the way, and yet she was torn. “Mayhap I should notify Physic.”

  Galloway cleared his throat. “In truth, my lady, I do not think you need concern yourself.”

  “But if he is ill—”

  “I believe ‘tis naught more than a wee case of poisoning.”

  “Poisoning!”

  “Ale poisoning.”

  “Oh?” The Hawk did not seem like one to drink to excess. She frowned at the guard. “Is this a common occurrence?”

  “I have never known it to happen before.”

  Perhaps he was not drunk at all! Perhaps he had only pretended so that James would think it safe to discuss their plans.

  “In truth, lady, I believe ‘twas your grandmother he was drinking with,” Cockerel said, joining their small group.

  “Grandmother?” She had heard nothing of this. But then, Grandmother was well known for her tendency to divulge what she wished and keep the rest silent.

  Cockerel’s full lips quirked up suddenly. “I believe Sir Hawk was intent on matching your grandmother’s considerable appetite and therefore—”

  ” ‘Tis always a pleasure to hear my name on your lips, Cockerel,” Hawk said.

  Catriona jumped, and Galloway paled to the color of weak cream. Only Cockerel grinned.

  “Sir Hawk,” he said, nodding.

  “Aye,” said Haydan. “In the flesh.”

  “The lady was just worrying over your absence.”

  “And you felt it your duty to reassure her?”

  Cockerel bowed. “I only do what I can, sir.”

  Haydan glowered at the dark guard for a moment, but finally turned his attention to James. “And what trouble have you found for yourself, lad?”

  “Trouble?” Innocence, it seemed, was the boy’s forte. Cat wished she could say the same for herself, but her heart was still thundering overtime and her head felt light. “No trouble, Sir Hawk. Lady Cat was assisting me with my horsemanship.”

  “Was she, now?”

  “Aye,” James said. ” ‘Tis my duty to improve my skills.”

  Hawk gave him a skeptical glance. “And you care?”

  “Of course. ‘Tis as you say—even the king of the sky must make his arduous journey west each day. No matter how weary or worn,” he said, his tone dramatic.

  Haydan scowled then nodded toward Cat’s gelding grazing placidly nearby. “And what has that to do with this horse?”

  “Like the sun…” James lifted his hand skyward. “I too must fulfill my destiny and learn to conduct myself as befits my station.”

  The Hawk’s brows lowered even further over ice-blue eyes. ” ‘Tis not the fact that you discerned the message that concerns me most, but that you listened to the moral at all.”

  James grinned. “Who can tell, Sir Hawk?” he quipped. “Pigs might yet fly. Who knows what the morrow might bring?”

  Chapter 19

  “On his birthday,” Catriona said, abruptly pacing again. Caleb wobbled on her shoulder, but found his balance without the aid of his bandaged wings after a bit of scrambling.

  “You will take him then?” Marta asked, her old voice rusty in the narrow room.

  “Unless we can learn who the cul
prit is, I have no choice,” Cat said. She turned hopefully toward her grandmother, but the old woman shook her head.

  “For a time in the hall last night I thought I felt the evil. But the place was full and I could not determine the source, though I sat long trying to sort out the emotions. As the crowd diminished I hoped to identify the feelings. But even with only a few men left, the place felt filled with passions. The kitchens were less confusing.” She turned shrewd eyes to her granddaughter. “Was it not the MacKinnon lad who you drugged and ransacked?”

  “Aye. It was.”

  “It seems he enjoyed it.”

  “Noblemen are strange,” Cat said, distractedly pacing again. “What did he say?”

  “Something about your purity, and that only a lout would besmirch your name.”

  “Who did the besmirching?”

  ” ‘Twas a dark fellow with half-lidded eyes.”

  “Drummond. He was speaking to MacKinnon?”

  “Even as I left Haydan the Hawk asleep on the table.”

  “But why?”

  Marta sighed from her place on the bed. “Ahh, lass. If every man who spoke of you was guilty of treason, there would not be an innocent left.”

  “There are no innocents left.”

  Marta was silent for a moment, then, “What of Haydan the Hawk?”

  “What of him?”

  “Is he innocent, I wonder?”

  Catriona shook her head. “Innocent? Nay. Well-meaning?” She shrugged. “I do not know. But it matters not—I dare not trust him.”

  “Mayhap you have no choice but to go where your heart leads you.”

  ” ‘Tis not my heart that is important here,” Cat said, fear spurring up inside her. ” ‘Tis Lachlan.”

  “And the king?”

  “Aye.” Catriona clenched her hands and paced again. Calum flitted through the open window to land on the cage and taunt Caleb with his ability to fly. “Aye, the king, too.”

  “When do you meet Blackheart again?”

  “Two days.”

  “Where at?”

  Cat shook her head. “I do not know. I go first to the livery stable in Burnsvale. There I shall be told what to do next.”

  “And tonight?”

  “When all is quiet I will continue my search.”