Tempted by a Warrior

by Amanda Scott

  He started toward her, but before he could grab her again, he encountered an obstacle in the shape of Kirkhill’s fist and took no further interest in Fiona.

  She had not seen Kirkhill coming, but he loomed above them all now.

  Hod landed on his back near Davy, who scrambled to his feet and ran to Tippy, still crouched in the chimney corner, weeping.

  “Get up.”

  Fiona, still dizzy from Hod’s blow, thought that Kirkhill was issuing the order to him and realized only when Kirkhill grasped her upper arm and hauled her upright that he had been talking to her. She stared at him in shocked dismay.

  Expressionless, he said, “Davy, fetch me your dirk.”

  “Aye, laird,” Davy said, picking it up from the hearthstones and handing it to Kirkhill with tears welling in his eyes. “He broke the blade, hitting them stones.”

  “So he did,” Kirkhill said. “I’ll see if someone can mend it. Meantime, I’ll show you how to use one properly. Threatening a man like Hod with it was the act of a fool, so you must learn to choose your opponents more wisely. For now, take Tip downstairs to your mam and tell her I said the hall is no place for a wee lassock like her. She should stay with your mam in the kitchen. Do you understand me?”

  “Aye, sure. Are ye sore vexed wi’ me, laird?”

  “Nay, laddie, but we will talk more of this later,” Kirkhill said.

  Davy looked uncertainly at Fiona, but she judged it wisest to say nothing.

  When the boy had gone, Kirkhill approached Hod, now sitting up and rubbing his jaw as he looked ruefully at Kirkhill.

  Kirkhill stood over him. “Don’t try to explain your actions this time, Hod. Just be grateful that I don’t order you flogged before you go. Striking the lady Fiona is reason enough for that as well as for your dismissal.”

  “Aye, sure, now it is,” Hod said with a grimace. “I just lost me temper wi’ the both o’ them, but I’ll go. I expect ye’ll want yon letter back, after all, then.”

  “I told you I would not take it back, and I meant what I said. You should have no trouble finding another place, but you will leave here at once, today.”

  “I will, aye,” Hod said, getting to his feet and leaving without further ado.

  “Your mother and my uncle are just coming in,” Kirkhill said to Fiona. “You should go with them to the high table now. But you and I will also talk later.”

  His tone was cool enough to send shivers through her.

  She was still trying to figure out why he was angry with her when she had simply tried to protect Davy. But she held her head high as she joined Phaeline and walked to the dais with her. Sir James followed them.

  Only as they approached the table did Fiona see the muscular, dark-haired man standing in the open doorway of the inner chamber, watching them. His eyes twinkled, and she could have sworn he was laughing as he went to meet Kirkhill.

  The two men approached the high table together, and Kirkhill formally made Sir Antony MacCairill known to both Fiona and Phaeline.

  “By the Rood, that was the bravest thing I ever saw, jumping in to protect that lad the way you did, Lady Fiona,” Sir Antony said. “Not many women—”

  “Enough, Tony,” Kirkhill said austerely. “I’ll thank you not to encourage such foolishness. Indeed, if you mean to encourage Nan in such—”

  “Nan!” Tony snorted. “I should like to see that!”

  “See what, Tony?” Nan said clearly as she swept into the lower hall and made her way alone toward the dais, oblivious to those men-at-arms and castle servants who scrambled out of her path. “Did Archie send you, sir, or could you just not stay away? It makes no difference which it is, for I’ll have none of you.”

  “God’s troth, look at the lass!” Sir Antony exclaimed. “Did you set out to make yourself look forty years old, Nan? That purple silk makes you look sallow, my lass. You’d do better to wear a paler color and a simpler style. All that lace spoils the lines of the dress. You must speak to her, Dickon.”

  “I’m going to speak to both of you in a moment in a way that neither of you will like,” Kirkhill said in the same voice that had sent shivers up Fiona’s spine. “Stop acting like a doxy, Nan. Take your place at the table and be silent.”

  She obeyed him quickly, and Sir Antony made no further comment.

  They sat in the customary formal order, with Kirkhill and Fiona at the center, facing the lower hall tables. Lady Phaeline sat next to her daughter with Nan at her left, while Kirkhill had Sir James on his right and Sir Antony beyond Sir James.

  After the gillies had served them, Nan said casually across Phaeline, “What was Tony talking about, Fee, when he said that he’d never seen anything so brave?”

  “It was naught to talk of here or now,” Fiona said, hoping that Nan would drop the subject. However, she had known the other young woman long enough not to be surprised when Nan only laughed and turned to Phaeline.

  “What was it that she did, madam? Or did you not see, either?”

  “Nay, I did not, but I confess I am as curious as you are to hear about it.”

  Sir Antony, clearly straining to hear them, said, “I can tell you what I saw as Dickon opened the inner chamber door to step out here. A big fellow struck a small lad and clearly meant to do worse, but her ladyship darted between them. The big chap had a dirk in one hand, but he hit her with the other. The dirk went flying, and so did her ladyship. That was when Dickon put an end to the matter.”

  “Merciful heaven, Fiona, what will you do next?” Phaeline demanded.

  “Hod knocked Davy down after slapping his little sister,” Fiona said. “He is the lad who killed Dobb, the dog that tried to attack you and my bairn.”

  “Nevertheless,” Kirkhill said in that unpleasantly chilly tone, “you should have kept out of it. It was not the brave act that Tony calls it. It was daft. You had no hope of besting Hod. In fact… But we’ll talk more of this anon.”

  “Nay, we will talk now,” Fiona retorted. “You said yourself that I acted with great courage when I jumped between that vicious dog and my mother and child. How was that courageous if what just happened was daft?”

  “What is this then?” Sir Antony exclaimed. “What vicious dog?”

  “Never mind,” Kirkhill said. “As I said, my lady, we will discuss it later.”

  “But why not explain it now?” Nan asked. “Fee’s question sounds perfectly sensible to me. I’ll wager you just don’t want to answer it, Dickon, because—”

  “Nay, he does not, and I’ll tell you why,” Fiona said hotly. “Because he is just like all Jardines, that’s why. He orders people about and seeks to govern their lives. Faith, but he even makes up the rules as he goes along, so that one never knows when one is going to put a foot wrong. Well, I’m tired of it!”

  She stood up.

  “Sit down,” Kirkhill said curtly. “You will hush now, both of you, and eat your supper unless you want to answer to—”

  “I don’t want my supper,” Fiona said. “You can have it!” With that, she picked up her trencher and dumped its contents onto his. “I will now bid you all—”

  That was as far as she got before Kirkhill stood up and caught hold of her. When she fought to free herself, he picked her up bodily and carried her from the dais into the inner chamber, kicking the door shut behind them.

  Chapter 10

  Kirkhill had borne enough. His temper was high, and he meant to make it clear to the lady Fiona that such tactics with him were dangerously unwise. Once the chamber door was shut, he strode with her to the back-stool near the table.

  Seating himself, he draped her across his lap and raised his right hand.

  “No! Don’t! Oh, pray, sir, don’t!”

  The panicked note in her voice caught him by surprise, because he had intended to give her only a few smacks hard enough to get her attention but not hard enough to hurt her. She sounded truly frightened, even terrified. Moreover, she was trembling like an aspen and practically sobbing.
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  Nan frequently tried to beg off punishment, but never like this.

  “Easy, lass,” he said as he lowered his hand to the small of her back, his fury gone. “Here now, sit up and tell me what this is all about.”

  She remained utterly still for a long moment before he realized that he still held her arm, and let go. Then she squirmed sideways and slid off his lap to the floor, where she sat back on her heels and looked up at him, her face pale.

  “Sakes, what did you think I was going to do to you?” he asked.

  “You know what you were going to do.”

  “I do, aye. I was going to give you a few well-earned smacks on the backside in the hope that they would teach you better manners.”

  Color flooded back into her cheeks then, and she looked quickly down, but not before he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes. He leaned toward her, his hand moving to her shoulder and then to touch her cheek. He wanted to pull her close, give her a hug, and tell her again that she need not fear him. He could not do most of that, however, as he had so impulsively carried her into the inner chamber.

  That the room was where he conducted much of his business did not matter a whit. It was also his bedchamber, and the only way he could deal with the situation now without raising a scandal was to continue as he had begun.

  He was, after all, her trustee. Considering her age, that put him in the same position as any guardian, a point that was beginning to irk him sorely.

  “Get up from the floor,” he said.

  She obeyed slowly, looking small and uncertain. But once she was on her feet, she straightened and gave him one of her direct looks as she said, “If you are not going to beat me after all, sir, I will bid you goodnight.”

  With that, she turned away.

  He let her take a few steps toward the door before he said, “Not just yet, lass. I still have some things to say to you.”

  She stopped where she was, visibly stiffening.

  However, his resolve had stiffened, too.

  Fiona stood still, wishing that her heart would stop hammering so she could hear herself think. She did not understand her behavior, let alone his, but she did not trust him any more than she would trust any other man in that situation.

  She deserved punishment for what she had done and more than the few smacks Kirkhill had intended. Her father would have said so, and Will would not have hesitated for a moment. Sakes, if she had dared to dump her food onto Old Jardine’s trencher, he would have ordered her flogged. Not that she had ever done such a thing to anyone before Kirkhill, for she had not.

  Kirkhill had meant to do only what any man would do to a naughty child. He had said so, and she believed him, which only made the situation worse. The very thought was as humiliating as anything the Jardines had done to her.

  “Come back here and sit down.”

  His voice, still chilly, interrupted her tangled thoughts, but the last thing she wanted to do was to go back and face him. He made her feel small and vulnerable, much more so than her father or the Jardines ever had.

  “I’m waiting, and my patience is not limitless.”

  Swallowing hard, she turned back to see that he was standing.

  “In troth, sir,” she said hastily, “I do not know what led me—”

  “Sit down, Fiona, and be glad that you can do so comfortably.” He moved away from the stool and gestured to it as he leaned his hips against the big table.

  “If you’re going to rant at me, I’d rather stand.”

  “Sit down,” he said. “You are not fully recovered yet, and I don’t rant.”

  “Aye, well, Nan said—”

  “We will not bring Nan into this. Sit.”

  She sat.

  He said, “You are seventeen years old, are you not?”

  “Aye, you know I am.”

  “Do I? I’d have thought you ten years younger by your behavior tonight.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, but she ignored them. “I swear, I don’t know why—”

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses, lass. I’ve heard them, and although I do understand that having a baby can make some women behave oddly, enough is enough. Not only was your behavior at the table tonight childish, but your behavior earlier, with Hod, was downright dangerous.”

  “But—”

  “Do not interrupt me,” he said coldly. “For once, you will just listen. You asked me what the difference was between what you did when the dog attacked and when you leaped to Davy’s defense tonight, so I will tell you exactly what it is.”

  Somehow, she was certain that she no longer wanted to hear the explanation, but he gave her no choice.

  “It is one thing to thrust yourself between certain danger and your own mother and child,” he said. “The danger to them was imminent and fierce. Phaeline, holding the babe, could do nowt to defend it or herself. You did not know that Davy was there or that I was nearby. Flory was behind you on the stairs and thus useless to aid you. So you did the only thing anyone could have done. Most people—male or female—would have hesitated to challenge that dog. You did not. You flung yourself into its path without sparing a thought for your own safety. That was courageous.”

  His words warmed her to the core, making her feel more in charity with him. She even felt an urge to thank him for the compliment.

  He did not give her the opportunity. Instead, his voice chillier than ever, he said, “What was not a matter of courage or even good sense was rushing in between Hod and young Davy. Don’t argue,” he added when she opened her mouth. “It is one thing to act swiftly and instinctively to protect your own, another to leap between your house steward and a junior member of your household. It is especially daft when the steward is twice your size, armed with a dirk, and angry. You surely ought to have noted how swiftly he disarmed the lad. What you thought you could do if Hod turned on you, as he did, I cannot imagine.”

  “I didn’t think about that. There was no time! I just acted, as I did before.”

  “Then you must learn to tell the difference between doing the only thing you can do and interfering in a dispute when you do not know the facts. Young Davy had no business pulling that dirk on Hod under any circumstance, and Hod was right to chastise him. You were wrong to interfere, and even had you been right, you went about it the wrong way. Others were at hand, my men and yours. If you feared for the lad’s life or limbs, you should have let out a screech. You do have the authority to order our men to intervene when anyone behaves dangerously.”

  “But I did tell Hod not to—”

  “You are thinking that he should have obeyed your order,” he interjected in that maddeningly calm, icy tone. “He should have, but he did not. And when he did not, you, being much the smaller, should have thought hard before you acted.”

  She grimaced, knowing he was right, but again he did not give her a chance to tell him so.

  “It is time for you to take yourself in hand, Fiona,” he said. “Indeed, it is more than time. You are not taking care of yourself, and you have behaved badly to nearly everyone here at Spedlins, in one way or another, since my arrival. Tonight you went beyond what anyone should have to tolerate, particularly your guests. You often snap at Flory. You snap at me. I have heard you snap at your mother, as well as Mother Beaton and heaven knows how many others. Had I spoken to my mother as I’ve heard you speak to Phaeline, my father would have made me smart long and sharp for it. You should be smarting, too, even without a good smacking.”

  The too-ready tears sprang to her eyes again, but she dashed them away, determined not to let him make her cry.

  He certainly had the knack. That was clear enough.

  “You must apologize to them all, lass.”

  The urge to cry vanished in a blink. “All of them?”

  “Aye, and quickly, because I suspect that most of them will be gone by this time tomorrow.”

  “Gone! Because of me?”

  “Nay, because I mean to send James back to Kirkhill to look after
things there as we’d arranged for him to do, and he will take Nan with him. Your mother was ready to go back to the Hall the day they arrived and agreed to stay as hostess only so that you need not assume that role before you were ready. I have no doubt, though, that she will go when they do. Your sister will arrive soon—before Lammas Day, Phaeline said—but Phaeline will return to us if you need her.”

  “Must I apologize to them all at once?” The very thought was daunting.

  “Nay, but neither should you rejoin them until you are ready to make amends. You may take the service stairs from here to your chamber and use what time you need before morning to decide what you want to say to them.”

  She stood, hoping he had finished. She felt battered as it was, and did not know how much more of that cold, cutting tone she could stand. He had made her smart, all right, and he had made her sorry, all without once raising his voice.

  Most of all, she was sorry that she had pushed him to such a point and hoped fervently that she would never do so again.

  She drew a breath and faced him. “May I apologize to you now, sir? I—”

  “No, Fiona. Think about the others first and the behavior that led us here. I don’t want your apologies when they come on the heels of a well-deserved rebuke. Come to me when you are truly apologetic, not merely chastened.”

  Feeling as if he had slapped her, she searched his face for any hint of compassion and found none.

  Abruptly, she turned away, not waiting for dismissal, and went swiftly to the service stair door. Jerking it open, she stepped onto the dim, unwelcoming landing.

  “Fiona!”

  She barely heard him call to her as she pulled the door shut behind her and stumbled up the stairs, blinded by tears she could not stop.