by J. D. Robb
Colin merely smiled. “I consider it my duty to be a good host first, and to partake of the games only when my guests are enjoying themselves.”
As Ian wheeled his mount and began riding after the others, Colin reined in his horse and watched with a thoughtful frown.
His thoughts weren’t on the hunt, but rather on the female. On that kiss in the garden, which had inflamed him as none ever had.
Who was she, and why had she chosen this time to come into their midst? Was she, as he feared, a spy, sent by the Campbell clan to report on his intentions regarding Queen Mary? After his stepmother’s heavy-handed rule over his father and his clan, he trusted no Campbell. Especially one so young and fair.
Still, she seemed truly confused by her fall. Or addle-brained.
Colin considered himself a good judge of character. And though he intended to keep a watchful eye, he found himself beginning to believe that she was as she appeared. Not so much addled as injured. There seemed to be a goodness in her heart, a sweetness in her soul that called to him. A dangerous thing, he knew. Many a laird had failed to understand that a fair face could hide an evil heart. Had not his own father made such an error in judgment? The price paid for his father’s folly was still being exacted today. Darda was not a woman to be trifled with. As she had so ably proven.
The stranger could be here to relieve him of the last of the Gordon legacy. Hadn’t many a devious woman mastered the art of seducing a laird before betraying him?
Seeing the female and Jamie approaching, he put aside his troubling thoughts and forced himself to smile.
“Now that you’re here, we’ll observe the others.”
Jamie looked surprised. “Yer not joining in the hunt, m’laird?”
“There’s plenty of time, lad.” Motioning for Jamie to give them some room, Colin guided his mount to fall into step alongside Beth’s horse and found himself enjoying the way the sunlight turned her hair to spun gold.
“This place you spoke of. This New York. Do they all speak as you do?”
Beth nodded. “They do.”
“And that strange manner of dress when you first arrived, baring your legs as a Highland warrior, but wearing on your feet small bits of calfskin with daggers at the heels? This is also something your kinsmen wear in your country?”
Beth found herself laughing. “The heels aren’t really meant to be daggers, though I suppose they appear that way to someone who’s never seen them before. They’re considered fashionable in New York.”
“Fashion?” Colin frowned. “I’ve heard the women in the English court are consumed by it. Here in the Highlands we’re more concerned with surviving the cold and feeding our young. We are constantly at war, if not with neighboring clans, then with the English, who will never cease until we wear the yoke of oppression. We’ve no time for frivolous pursuits.”
Beth instantly sobered. “I’m truly sorry for your hardship. I hope it will give you some comfort to know that life will be easier for your heirs in generations to come.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Are you one of those who can see the future?”
“I . . .” Unsure how to answer, she merely nodded before looking away.
“Ah.” He drew the word out as he pondered this bit of wondrous news. “And do all your people in New York have this power?”
She swiveled her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“So you are one of the few.” He leaned close to place a hand on hers, lowering his voice so that Jamie wouldn’t overhear. “Have you come here to warn me, or to use your power against me?”
Again she felt the most amazing rush of heat, which sparked up her arm and sizzled along her spine, and wondered if this man had some sort of strange power as well.
“I would never . . .” Her voice caught in her throat, and she struggled to remember why she had come to Stag’s Head. To urge this man to sell that which was most revered by him. To persuade him to offer up his ancestral land for a modern development that would turn this idyllic paradise into a playground for the rich and famous. Her tone lowered. “No matter why I was sent, now that I’m here, my only wish is to help you in any way I can.”
“I wonder . . .” He kept his hand on hers for long moments while he stared into her eyes.
At last, satisfied with what he saw, he straightened and looked across at Jamie. “My guests have had enough time to thin the flock.” He removed his bow and reached into his quiver for an arrow, bearing the distinct eagle feathers adopted by his father and grandfather before him.
He watched the path of a bevy of quail and took aim. Once released, the arrow flew straight and true, and the bird fell to the earth, followed by another, and yet another.
Jamie was out of the saddle to fetch the game, which he tossed into a leather pouch before pulling himself back into the saddle, declaring, “A clean kill every time, m’laird.”
“You’ll see that all the game brought down this day is given to the villagers, Jamie. Enough to satisfy the hunger of every family.”
“Aye, m’laird.”
Colin gave a nod of his head before urging his mount forward, toward the cluster of men in the distance.
While Beth and Jamie watched from a nearby hillside, the hunters scattered across the verdant meadow, calling encouragement to one another and shouting triumphantly with each kill.
Though Beth abhorred the killing, she felt consoled by the fact that this contest would feed the poor villagers.
It was, she realized, another reason to admire Colin Gordon. He gave his guests a fair advantage, and he used the fruits of this contest to see to the needs of his people, who trusted him to look out for them.
CHAPTER FIVE
By the time the sun was high overhead, a line of horse carts had filed across the meadow, where, under the care of Mistress MacKay, a tent was erected, and tables groaned beneath the platters of fresh salmon and mutton, and even a whole roasted piglet. There were baskets of bread and sweetmeats, and flagons of ale and mead.
The women, who had remained at the lodge to be pampered and bathed, arrived in a wagon, their gowns fluttering in the breeze like pretty wildflowers.
Once there, old Maura took charge of their comfort, offering them cushioned chairs beneath the cover of a tent.
A tall, regal woman in a gown of rich, royal purple separated herself from the others. From a distance, she was every inch a queen. Even her hair, in a coronet of braids, was topped by a circle of diamonds and precious stones that caught and reflected the sunlight.
As she drew near, Beth could see her face. Though her skin was unlined and her features perfect, instead of beautiful, she was frightening to behold. Her eyes were without light. Dead eyes, Beth realized. When she opened her mouth, her teeth resembled fangs.
“So, this is our unwelcome guest.” Her voice was the hiss of a snake. “You are the talk of the household. ’Tis said you are either mad or dangerous, and that you insinuated yourself into the laird’s fortress by feigning illness.”
Despite the woman’s obvious attempt to be insulting, Beth decided to deflect her temper with a smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Beth Campbell.”
The woman arched a brow. “So I have heard. A lie, of course. I am a Campbell, and I am familiar with every member of our clan.”
“Not all your clan, or you would know me. You must be Edwina, the laird’s stepsister.”
“I know who I am.” Edwina fixed her with a dark stare. “But I also know this. You are no Campbell.”
Beth saw the women’s heads turning as they easily overheard all that was being said. While she watched in amazement, before her very eyes the women turned into a flock of geese, their wings flapping, their beaks moving as though trying to speak, though no words came out.
By now she was accustomed to seeing these changes in the people here. But she couldn’t help
wondering if she was imagining these dreadful changes, or if it was something about this place. Was it magical, mystical, or purely evil?
Beth was grateful when Colin’s horse stopped beside them and the laird slid from the saddle. Did he see geese as well? she wondered. Or was she the only one who saw these people as birds and other animals?
While Jamie took the reins, Colin smiled at Edwina, apparently unaware, or uncaring, of the transformation of the women. “I see you’ve met my guest.”
“Guest? And wearing the precious clothes old Maura hoards as though they are rare treasures? I’ve never known the old crone to let anyone even touch the lady Catherine’s gowns, let alone wear them.”
“And that troubles you, Edwina?”
At Colin’s question, her dead eyes narrowed. “Though this woman claims to be of our clan, I know her not. You’d be wise to send out riders to see who she really is, brother. Perhaps one of the neighboring crofters has misplaced an addled wife.”
“I thank you for your concern for my guest.” Colin made a slight bow before offering his arm to Beth. “Let us enjoy the food Mistress MacKay has prepared. The hunt always sharpens my appetite.”
As they turned away, Beth caught sight of the anger flaring in Edwina’s eyes as the silly geese surrounded her, heads bobbing, tails wriggling nervously, beaks flapping.
Beth was reminded again of her dream. There had been no geese. Only a man and a woman. The voices had been mere whispers. It wasn’t possible to recognize them among these guests. And yet the obvious fury in Edwina’s eyes could not be masked, making her suspect.
Beth pondered her problem. If she were to tell Colin about the words she’d overheard, would he be grateful for the warning? Or would it be one more reason for him to believe she was truly addled?
Could there possibly be others among this company who wanted Lord Colin Gordon dead? Was there an insidious plot to have him killed? Or had her fall, and her subsequent failure to represent her firm, made her want to believe in silly fairy tales, rather than concentrate on the true purpose of her visit? There was no denying that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Colin’s face when that happened.
While she sorted out fact from fiction, she decided that for now she would watch and listen—and try not to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.
* * *
Colin glanced around the cluster of guests. “What is your tally so far, Ian?”
“Ten and two quail. A score of pheasants. But I intend to double that before the day ends.” Colin’s stepbrother tossed back a tankard before holding it out for a refill.
A serving wench was quick to attend to his need.
The men stood in a circle, drinking ale and paying little attention to the women seated beneath the tent.
Perhaps, Beth thought, it was because their women, despite the fashionable gowns, still had webbed feet and feathered wings. But the men fared little better. As she watched, Ian once again became a sly fox, while Hamish seemed to hunch into himself, growing shorter and shorter until he more resembled a mouse than a man.
Beth blinked, hoping to dispel the image, but now she realized the other men had also changed back from human to animal form. Though most were hounds, one was a hawk, with sharp, knowing eyes, watching the others.
She turned to where Colin stood a little apart, talking quietly to Jamie. The lad was now a wolf pup, eyes bright, tail wagging in a sign of friendship, while Colin had been transformed into a sleek, proud stag, with powerful antlers that could take down an opponent with one deadly swipe.
While she watched, the animal fixed her with a look so fierce, she felt a prickling sensation along her back and arms. He’d looked the same after her fall, when he’d greeted her with such disdain.
Despite her fear, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.
The beautiful animal pranced toward her, keeping her in its line of vision, and though she wanted to run in fear, she was rooted to the spot.
“You should eat something.” Before her eyes the animal disappeared. In its place was her handsome host. “Mistress MacKay will take offense if you refuse to sample her cooking.” He studied her pale face with a look of concern. “Are you feeling ill?”
She shook her head, desperately trying to keep up with the troubling transformations that had her believing she must surely be going mad. “I’m fine. And you’re right. We mustn’t offend the cook.”
He smiled. “I’ve often referred to her as a better fisherman than any here. She always manages to catch the finest salmon, the largest trout in our Highland streams.”
Beth looked over and saw the cook, transformed into a crane, standing as still as a statue, watching live fish swimming in a bucket of water. With split-second timing she dipped her head and caught several in her mouth before depositing them over hot coals.
Beth glanced around. Had no one else seen it?
Colin held Beth’s chair, and she was grateful to let her weak legs fold under as she took a seat with the geese.
Colin sat beside her, and the hunters followed his lead, joining their women as the meal was served.
In the blink of an eye Beth watched all the guests return to their human forms. She took a calming drink of ale and gripped the edge of the table for support.
Edwina shot a quick look at her brother. “Who is winning the wager so far?”
Ian shrugged. “Hamish and I are even. But I’ve decided on yet another wager. A hundred gold coins to the first one to bring down a stag.”
Colin’s head came up sharply. “We are hunting pheasants and quail. You’re not to disturb the deer in the forest.”
“Why such concern, brother?”
“’Tis mating season. I’ll not have the herds thinned for the sake of a handful of gold.”
“We’ll take care not to harm the females or their young.” Ian eyed his stepbrother. “Surely the loss of one stag shouldn’t matter to you.” He looked around with a knowing smile. “As we all know, it takes but one rutting male to populate an entire forest of willing females.”
Around the table the men nodded and joined in the laughter. Even the women covered their mouths to hide their smiles.
Seeing Colin’s frown, Ian arched a brow before glancing at the others. “Or are you more concerned with one particular stag?”
Hamish shot him a puzzled look. “Are you suggesting the laird would protect the Beast?”
“Perhaps.” Ian looked directly at Colin. “Or perhaps you merely wish to save that trophy for yourself?”
Hamish looked astonished. “Have you ever actually dared to hunt the Beast, m’laird?”
“I have not.” Colin drained his tankard. “And I would ask that none of my guests dare to attempt such a dangerous thing.”
“Because you fear for our lives?” Ian persisted. “Or is it the Beast you worry after?”
Colin’s tone was brisk. “I have graciously provided you with enough fowl to satisfy your appetite for the hunt. I now command that you refrain from hunting the four-legged animals during this mating season, so that the forest will continue to feed our people for generations to come.”
“Ye’ve heard it. The laird . . . commands.” Ian’s tone was sharp with sarcasm. “And we all know the laird’s command must be obeyed without question. Without regard to the fact that this command will cost me one hundred gold coins.”
Hamish flushed, as did several others, who were aware of the sting of anger in the young man’s words, directed at their host.
“I’ll choose to overlook that for now, brother.” Colin pushed away from the table. “Let the hunt continue.”
As the men mounted their eager steeds, the women treated themselves to slices of rich brandied cake, dotted with currants and drizzled with honey, before facing their return by wagon to the lodge.
Colin turned to Beth. “If you are wea
ry of the hunt, you may remain here with the ladies. They will soon be back in the comforting care of my servants.”
She gave a quick shake of her head. “I’d prefer to ride with you.”
He seemed pleased with her choice. “Very well.” He offered his arm and she placed a hand on his. “Jamie, lad, fetch the lady’s mount.”
“Aye, m’laird.” The boy raced off to separate Beth’s horse from the others tethered nearby.
When they were away from the others, Colin leaned close to whisper, “Perhaps, once the hunt is underway, you would permit me to taste your lips again, my lady.”
Caught by surprise, Beth knew he could see the heat that rushed to her cheeks. She tried to cover it by saying, “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“Perhaps not wise.” As Jamie drew near, leading her mount, Colin leaned closer, the warmth of his breath feathering the hair at her temple. “But speaking for myself, ’twould surely bring me a great deal of pleasure, my sweet Bethany. And I would do my best to pleasure you, as well.”
He lifted her to the sidesaddle, allowing his hands to linger at her waist before pulling himself onto the back of his stallion and leading the way toward the forest, with Beth and Jamie following behind.
And all the while, Beth’s poor heart kept up a steady rhythm that matched the pounding hoofbeats of the hunters’ horses as they raced into the thickets.
The mere touch of this man did the strangest things to her. She couldn’t recall another man who had ever had this effect on her body, her heart, her very soul.
She wanted, more than anything, to taste his kiss again. Wanted, in fact, a whole lot more than a chaste kiss. But what she wanted would have to be sacrificed for what she needed to do here.
She would have to guard her heart carefully. Once their business was concluded, she had no doubt that Colin Gordon’s feelings for her would equal his feelings for the woman he held most in contempt—Darda Campbell. Surely her reason for coming here was every bit as selfish as Darda’s motive for marrying the old laird. They both wanted the same thing. Ancestral lands that were, to the men who cherished them, more precious than gold.