Highland Knight

by Cindy Miles

  He nodded.

  ‘‘Okay.’’ She drew a big circle and wrote DAEGUS MAD in the center. ‘‘Then Rob rushed in and affirmed that her kin had backtracked and returned after leaving the day before, correct?’’

  ‘‘Aye,’’ Ethan said.

  ‘‘All right.’’ She stared at the long white sheet of paper covering the table. She capped her pen and pointed with it. ‘‘Ethan, you found your sword missing, Rob ran out ahead of you to alert Aiden and the guys, you dressed, left, met Aiden in the passageway, where he handed you another sword, and you all left for the knoll.’’ She looked at everyone. ‘‘Am I right so far?’’

  Six medieval ayes sounded at once.

  ‘‘Okay.’’ Amelia studied the line. ‘‘You Munros approached the knoll, saw the gibbet, Devina’s body on the ground covered in a MacEwan plaid, and on the gibbet was your plaid and sword jammed into the wood, right, Ethan?’’

  He nodded, his face drawn tight.

  Apparently, even seven hundred years or so doesn’t help erase such a bad memory.

  ‘‘Ethan, you did actually see her, right?’’ she asked.

  He looked at her. ‘‘I did.’’

  Amelia nodded. ‘‘So a fight ensued, Rob there killed Daegus as he was about to poke you with his blade.’’ She inclined her head toward Ethan. ‘‘And then the other MacEwans showed up, ready for a slaughter.’’

  Rob nodded. ‘‘Aye.’’

  Amelia leaned over the table and met Ethan’s gaze. ‘‘Then what happened?’’

  Ethan started to pace. ‘‘Just as the MacEwans started to rush down the knoll, a mist gathered. ’Twas thick and blanketing, and we could no’ see a hand before us.’’

  The guys nodded in agreement.

  ‘‘Just before everything went dark, I heard a voice.’’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘‘A whispering voice, low, mayhap a woman, but no’ saying anything I could understand.’’

  Amelia glanced at the others. ‘‘Did any of you hear it?’’

  They all shook their heads.

  ‘‘Only Ethan,’’ said Aiden.

  ‘‘It sounded like a chant,’’ Ethan said, rubbing his chin.

  ‘‘Or an enchantment,’’ added Amelia. She stared at her time line, made a few more notes with her pen, then turned and leaned against the table. ‘‘You’ve mentioned before that Devina spent all of her time in the chapel. Why?’’

  Rob answered. ‘‘Because of the accusations surrounding Ethan.’’

  ‘‘Aye,’’ said Aiden. ‘‘She was more likely than no’ prayin’ for her soul’s safety from the devil she’d just wed.’’

  Ethan nodded. ‘‘ ’Tis so.’’

  Amelia scratched her forehead with the tip of the pen cap. ‘‘Forgive me for asking this, but didn’t you two consummate the marriage?’’

  Ethan glanced at his kin, then at Amelia. ‘‘Nay. She wouldna come near me, and I wasna going to force her.’’

  Amelia looked at Ethan with even more respect than she had before. ‘‘Coming from a medieval guy, that says a lot about your character.’’

  Ethan grunted.

  ‘‘Who else, besides Devina, and apparently her uncle Daegus, wasn’t too happy about your marriage? ’’

  Ethan stroked his chin, then rubbed the back of his neck. ‘‘No one. I canna think of a single soul who would have cared enough to murder.’’

  ‘‘Had other women come to the wedding?’’ Amelia asked.

  ‘‘Aye,’’ Aiden said. ‘‘Scores of them.’’

  ‘‘None of them murderers, though,’’ Ethan said. ‘‘And there were eight, no’ scores.’’

  Amelia cocked her head. ‘‘How on earth do you know none of them were murderers?’’

  ‘‘No motive,’’ said Gilchrist.

  ‘‘Okay, so let’s make a list,’’ Amelia said, ‘‘of the women, not including Ethan’s mom and sister, who came to the wedding. Not that the female enchantment caster was someone invited to the wedding, but now that we have a time line and it’s visual to me, it makes sense to at least eliminate who we can as possible suspects.’’

  ‘‘Are you sure you’re no’ a constable?’’ Rob asked.

  The men roared.

  So did Amelia. ‘‘Okay, smarty-pants, I do write mysteries for a living, don’t forget.’’

  Rob nodded with a grin. ‘‘I yield, then.’’

  ‘‘As you should,’’ said Amelia, and everyone laughed. ‘‘Okay, let’s get started on that list.’’

  It didn’t take them long.

  Amelia stared at the women’s names. Each had their own mini bio, which was pretty impressive seeing how over seven hundred years had passed since the wedding took place.

  Only one on the list caught Amelia’s eye. ‘‘What happened to’’—she peered at the name—‘‘Marynth’s husband?’’

  Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. ‘‘He’d died earlier that year.’’

  ‘‘Aye, fell off his horse and broke his neck,’’ said Sorely.

  ‘‘She was Devina’s cousin?’’ Amelia asked.

  ‘‘Aye. Daegus’ own daughter.’’

  Amelia tapped the pen to her lip. ‘‘Were they close? Marynth and Devina?’’

  Ethan nodded. ‘‘Verra. Like sisters.’’

  Amelia blew out a gusty breath. ‘‘Well, so much for the list. It looks like the enchantress could have been anyone. Maybe even a guy.’’

  ‘‘Aye, anyone with scorn for Ethan,’’ said Aiden.

  Amelia considered. ‘‘Or someone who had the hots for him.’’

  The confused looks on the Highlanders’ faces made Amelia chuckle. ‘‘That means they like you a great deal.’’

  ‘‘Och,’’ Rob said. ‘‘You mean fancy.’’

  Amelia winked. ‘‘Exactly.’’ Tossing her pen on the table, she stretched. ‘‘Good job, fellas. I’ve got to let this stew in my brain for a while.’’ She smiled at Ethan. ‘‘I think I’m going to go for a walk. Wanna come along?’’

  Ethan met her gaze. ‘‘Absolutely.’’

  As they left the hall, whistles and suggestive hollers followed them out.

  ‘‘Ethan’s got the hots for Amelia, methinks,’’ said Torloch.

  The Munro warriors all roared.

  Amelia didn’t care.

  She had a handsome laird for a walking buddy.

  As they walked out, Amelia held up her right hand, and slowly lowered all fingers but the middle one.

  The men behind her roared even louder.

  A few hours later and Amelia and Ethan found themselves along a frothy rushing stream at the far side of the Munro estate. They’d covered quite a lot of ground, and along the way found out more and more about each other, their families, about growing up. The scenery was beyond breathtaking. Hilly countryside covered in green grass, clumps of heather, and scattered rock made up the Munro land, and Ethan had already pointed out several grouse, a red fox, and a pheasant or two. No mist to speak of, but a light rain had started to fall, making everything crisp and alive. Walking beside Ethan changed the way Amelia saw the land. Before, she could easily see in her mind’s eye the warriors running about, dirty, bloody, carrying swords and fighting. But with Ethan, she saw another vision, one of a man whose family came first, a hunter and provider, a lover of nature, a loving son, aggravating brother, protector of his little sister—a prankster hiding in a tree throwing sticks at a vicar.

  Time flew by, and before Amelia knew it, the twilight hour grew near. Standing at the water’s edge on a large, flat rock, she picked up a stone and tossed it into the burn. ‘‘We’ll never make it back to the keep before the gloaming.’’ She glanced at him. ‘‘Even if we ran the whole way, we wouldn’t make it.’’ She smiled an apology. ‘‘I guess I talk a lot, huh?’’

  Ethan rubbed his chin. ‘‘Aye, there is that, in truth.’’

  Amelia gave him a mock frown. ‘‘I just like to know stuff, that’s all.’’

  He laughed quietly. ‘�
�I find it vastly endearing, Amelia.’’

  She cocked her head. ‘‘I’m sorry I’ve broken your routine for the day.’’ She shrugged. ‘‘No bath, no food—’’

  ‘‘Hmm,’’ he said, tapping his temple with a forefinger. ‘‘Let me think. Bath and food, or the company of a fetching lass with verra soft lips who fancies me?’’

  Reaching up and patting her lips with her fingertips, Amelia shook her head. ‘‘Feel like regular ole lips to me.’’

  ‘‘I’ll be the judge of that, lass.’’

  She smiled, although her stomach had butterflies. ‘‘I’ve a mind to let you, too.’’

  And then, he did just that.

  And just that fast, the rain picked up, a fast, steady fall of water that would have them both soaked in no time.

  Not that Amelia cared.

  ‘‘Let’s go there,’’ Ethan said, grabbing her hand and pulling her as he said it. ‘‘ ’Tis naught more than a craggy hillock, but ’twill give us a bit of shield from the rain.’’

  Across the heathery meadow they ran; rather, Ethan dragged her, and she happily let him. By the time they made it to the front face of the hillock, the rain had picked up even more. When they stopped, Ethan grasped her by the shoulders, placed her back to the hillock, and then he moved in front of her.

  He looked down. ‘‘Does that help?’’ he asked.

  Amelia lifted her gaze. Ethan’s long hair hung in rain-soaked hanks, water dripping off the ends of the braids, his nose, his chin. His arms were wet and slick, the cut of the muscles pronounced by the odd lighting of the gloaming and the downpour.

  ‘‘Yeah,’’ she finally replied, and it came out barely more than a whisper. She looked up, rain dripping down her own face.

  Ethan lifted a hand, and with the back of his knuckles grazed her wet cheek, pushed her soaked hair back from her face, rubbed it between his fingers, lifted it to his nose, and inhaled. His eyes drifted shut as he smelled her hair, then dragged it across his lips. When he opened his eyes, the silvery ash color had turned as stormy as the clouds above them.

  Amelia couldn’t find her voice, so she concentrated on breathing instead. She could do little more than stand upright, and had it not been for the rocky earth at her back, and Ethan’s big frame at her front, she would have slid to the ground.

  Ethan seemed fascinated by her wet hair; he stroked it, tucked it behind her ears, and then fixed his gaze on her feet, then slowly took in the rest of her. A slow perusal that made Amelia’s breath catch.

  And then he set his gaze on hers.

  And Amelia’s heart slammed against her ribs as he lowered his head.

  Chapter 23

  Ethan felt like a bumbling whelp of a score and three, kissing a lass for the verra first time. His insides ached, his heart pounded fast and hard, and he knew if he spoke, his voice would be high-pitched and cracking.

  All that from a lass whom he’d kissed scores of times before. This time was different, though. Vastly. And he knew why.

  The vision of Amelia soaked through and through by a Highland rain during the glow of twilight was indeed a sight he’d remember forever. With her soaked skin burnished from the wetness, it looked like the smooth surface of a jewel, and his hands itched to touch it. Her drenched gown, white with the smallest of blue spots and already pulled snug by the strings beneath her breast and tied at her back, clung to her body, the flat of her stomach, the shape of her thighs. Each breath, which grew faster, deeper, made her chest rise and fall, and her throat moved with each small swallowing motion. Those luminous green eyes watched his every move, wide lashes spiked with rain, and Ethan knew he’d bank every small detail to memory.

  Including the way Amelia stood there, motionless all but for her rapid breathing, allowing him to drink his fill.

  Now, his patience exhausted, he touched.

  Starting at her hands, he slipped his fingers through her long, slender ones, their skin sliding easy from the rain. Grazing her knuckles, he encircled her small wrists, then moved up the length of her arms, marveling at the delicate bones of her shoulders beneath the rough palms of his hands. Amelia’s breathing grew faster as he brushed her collarbone with the back of one knuckle, tracing the length of it from shoulder to shoulder. She shivered, a small gasp escaping her throat, and she looked straight ahead, staring not at his eyes but at his chest. He lifted her chin with his thumb, and their gazes met.

  And Ethan all but lost feeling in his knees.

  Desire shone in Amelia’s eyes, and grasping both her hands, he slipped them around his neck. Then he angled her head just so, slipped one hand behind her head, and lowered his until their lips touched.

  Ethan tasted Highland rainwater and Amelia, and he drank thirstily, as though he’d never sampled either. Her mouth moved beneath his, trembling, and when he met her tongue with his, and they tasted each other, she made a soft moan low in her throat. Ethan deepened the kiss, frantic at first and discovering every minute detail of her lips, and then he pulled back and settled his mouth over her throat, then her bare shoulder, slowed his breathing, his pumping heart, before he lost all control.

  Then Amelia’s slight fingers left his throat and tangled in his hair, and she tugged him back to her mouth. They locked gazes first, the rain falling fast between them, and they came together once more, a slow tasting and discovering, and as their kiss deepened, Ethan wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her against him, and with his free hand skimmed down her soaked gown, over her ribs, then hip, the feel of her warmth beneath the cloth making him yearn to touch her bare skin.

  Christ help him, he tried to control himself, he did.

  But more than lust drove him to want to do all but crawl inside Amelia’s skin. Much more.

  Ashamed yet driven by such desire that he truly couldn’t stop himself, Ethan ran his hand down her hip, grasped the wet cloth of her gown, and pulled until the hem rose high enough for him to feel the skin of her thigh, her bare hip, and when Amelia pressed into him as he skimmed the soft flesh, his hand rose higher, to the taut skin of her buttock. He groaned and kissed her hungrily, there in the rain, soaked to the bone. And she kissed him back with just as much fervor, her hands grazing his throat, his cheek, his chest.

  Ethan moved his mouth over her shoulder. ‘‘Christ, Amelia,’’ he said, trying to control his own breathing. ‘‘You’re so beautiful.’’ He tugged at her sleeve, exposing more shoulder. ‘‘I’ll never get enough of you.’’ He tasted her skin there with his tongue and thought he’d die right there. ‘‘Grú mo chroí.’’

  As soon as the Gaelic words left his mouth, a fierce wind kicked up, the rain hardened and turned to hail. Large jagged stones of ice pelted them, and Ethan shoved Amelia against the hillock and shielded her with his body.

  ‘‘Ethan!’’ she yelled over the wind, her arms tucked in against his chest. ‘‘What’s happening?’’

  The hail felt as though they’d been volleyed by a seize engine, so hard they hit his back. ‘‘ ’Twill be fine, lass,’’ he yelled back. ‘‘Just keep still!’’

  Amidst the unnatural wind and hail, an eerie whisper rose to his ear, making his skin prickle, his belly ache. Ethan froze, glanced down at Amelia, whose head rested snugly against his chest.

  He recognized the pitch of the whispering voice.

  ’Twas the same one he’d heard the day Devina had died.

  Fiercely, it spoke again, whispering fast and harsh in his ear, seeping deep into his head for no one to hear but him. And this time, he understood the words. They made him sick inside.

  Amelia glanced up at him then, her eyes questioning. ‘‘What’s wrong?’’ she asked, and when he didna answer, ‘‘Ethan?’’

  He didna answer the whispering voice at first, either, and it grew louder in his head, enraged, and so forceful he thought the pain and harshness of it would bring tears to his eyes.

  Nay! he shouted in his mind. Go to hell!

  The wind turned, a fierce gale, sending sharp
, hard clumps of hail around his body and directly into Amelia’s. She ducked, but several struck her on the side, the face, and the head. She screamed, and the sound was more than Ethan could bear. He moved to cover her, but the wind changed again, the balls of ice pelting her from the opposite side.

  Cease! He screamed silently at the spirit. Do it now!

  ‘‘Ethan! What’s going on?’’ Amelia yelled over the whipping wind. ‘‘Answer me! Please!’’

  He didna, though. But inside his head, where that damned whispering voice of the unseen specter all but consumed him, he relented when it shouted its command once more. Against his bluidy will, he relented.

  Aye! Aye, damn you! he screamed from within.

  Silent to Amelia’s ears.

  Ethan took one final glance at the woman huddled against him, eyes wide with fear. He wanted desperately to kiss her once more, to hold her head steady and ease that look of dread from her face with his lips.

  She’d never know the words he’d spoken to her in his native tongue. Ever.

  ’Tis done, he said silently to the malevolent phantom in his head.

  The verra one that had the power to kill.

  I said, ’tis done, he repeated.

  With that, the wind and hail ceased, everything calmed, leaving a soft Highland mist in its wake.

  Amelia’s hands were all over him at once, running her fingers over the reddened marks left by the hail.

  Ethan backed away from her. ‘‘Are you all right?’’ he asked.

  She looked him in the eye and nodded. ‘‘Yes, but you took the brunt of it.’’ She glanced skyward. ‘‘What on earth was that?’’

  ‘‘Highland weather,’’ he said. ‘‘Unpredictable at best.’’

  ‘‘I’ll say.’’

  He inclined his head in the direction of the keep. ‘‘We’d better hurry before it grows too dark to see our way back.’’

  Amelia studied him, straightening her gown where moments before he’d lifted the hem and caressed the softest skin he’d ever touched in his life. ‘‘Okay. Let’s go.’’