Highland Flame

by Mary Wine

  Diocail.

  He would come for her.

  Jane latched onto that thought and tried to let it be the only thing in her mind. She didn’t dare allow herself to feel the bite of the rope on her wrists or notice the way the cart was covered in thick leather to make sure no one saw inside it.

  No.

  She must not think of anything except Diocail. He didn’t know how to fail, didn’t have weakness in him. He would come for her. And she would not disgrace him by being afraid.

  * * *

  “I should have put some of the lads on her.” Muir shook his head. “Until she was more settled. I did nae think she’d bolt.”

  Diocail knew without a doubt that his temper had never been so tested. “Better to know.” He growled at his captain. “Better that I understand she wants naught to do with me.”

  “She’s just no’…settled yet.” Muir attempted to soothe him.

  Diocail reached out and grabbed the man by the front of his jerkin. “I defended Colum against Tyree even though I felt the world would be better off without him. I took that woman to church because it was best for all of us, but I will no’ have a wife who runs away from me.”

  He was snarling by the time he finished. Diocail watched acceptance wash over Muir’s face. “Aye, we do nae need to be begging her to like us. If she’s so keen to be on her way back to England, good riddance.”

  Muir spat on the ground to make it clear that he stood with Diocail on the matter. Aylin slowly nodded.

  “Ungrateful bitch,” Aylin muttered.

  Diocail quelled the urge to defend Jane’s name. News was spreading fast through the castle that she’d run from him. Women were clustered in the doorways, leaning their heads toward each other as they whispered.

  “How long does it take to saddle a damned horse?” he bellowed.

  “Leave her,” Kory advised. “Ye can gain an annulment on grounds of abandonment.”

  “I brought her here,” Diocail bit out. “And it has nae changed that we do nae need a dead Englishwoman on our land.”

  “Aye,” Kory groaned as the stable hands began to pull horses into sight. “We’d better go get her. Even if I am no’ looking forward to sharing a roof with her through the winter.”

  “She’d better stay out of me path,” Muir declared, raising his voice so it could not be missed. “We’ve things we could be attending to. Tasks that need doing, and now we’re setting off to waste our time.”

  * * *

  There was grumbling aplenty as the men mounted and rode out. Dolina stood and watched, a troubled look on her face.

  “That’s what becomes of an Englishwoman being brought here,” Eachna remarked.

  Dolina turned to contemplate her.

  “What is that look for?” Eachna demanded to know. “I am no’ the one who has caused trouble.”

  “We do nae know for certain the mistress left of her own free will.”

  Eachna made a scoffing sound. “Of course she did.” The maid looked both ways before she leaned in and lowered her voice. “He was raised in the north. Lord knows what happened in that chamber last night, but I know that the mistress is a woman with a firm spine. She’ll no’ settle for being rutted on. The truth is I admire her for no’ submitting.”

  “I suppose it might be as ye say,” Dolina muttered. “Still, she did no’ appear to be displeased this morning.”

  “Of course not,” Eachna said. “Muir and his friends would have locked her away again so the laird could have time to breed her and force her to stay. No father would have her back with a Scots babe in her belly.”

  Dolina had to admit it was a reasonable explanation.

  Still, she hated to think Jane would run. She wanted to believe that the sparkle she’d glimpsed in Jane’s eyes that morning had been one of happiness.

  Well, it had been. Only the reason behind it was different than Dolina had thought.

  Jane had clearly been anticipating her escape. It was going to be sad indeed to see her brought back.

  * * *

  “I say we slit her throat.”

  Jane felt her heart accelerate. She applied all her strength to keeping her eyes from widening but knew she failed when the man in front of her smiled.

  “Aye,” he informed her gleefully. “There is a nice place…just over there where I can leave ye for the wolves to enjoy.”

  “That was no’ the plan, Keefe.”

  The man in front of her turned on his companion. “The hell it was no’, Sheehan.”

  Sheehan was older but by no means feeble. There was gray in his beard, hinting at wisdom. He stepped closer to Keefe as Jane struggled not to draw attention to herself.

  Her life was being debated.

  “Ye agreed to allow her the option to leave Scotland,” Sheehan stated slowly.

  Keefe gestured at the dark mass above them. “It’s set to storming. I do nae care to spend me time on the road, freezing because of her. Best to tend to the business now. We can return to the tower and be warm.”

  “Go up to the tavern,” Sheehan advised him. “I’ll watch her.”

  They had stopped just outside a village. The sun was beginning to set, but she could only tell because the light was fading. The clouds were too thick.

  “Ye’ll come with me,” Keefe declared. “Phelan will take the first watch.”

  Phelan didn’t appear very pleased, but he grabbed the back of his kilt and raised it up to cover his head and neck. Keefe nodded at him before he shot Jane a look full of promise.

  Evil promise.

  * * *

  “Wake up now.”

  Jane didn’t have much trouble obeying. She had no idea how she’d managed to fall asleep in the first place. Sheehan was leaning over her. She caught a flash of moonlight off the blade of his knife as he slipped it between her hands and jerked it upward to cut the rope binding her.

  “Keefe is young and passionate,” he said with regret. “He’ll slit yer throat, make no mistake.”

  She didn’t doubt it. Jane bit her lip, waiting to see what this man had planned for her. She rubbed her wrists, absorbing the fact that he’d freed her, and tried to draw hope from that action.

  “Take this.” He dropped a leather pouch into her hand. “And hide yerself somewhere in the village. Once we’re gone, hire yerself someone to take ye south. Show yer face on Gordon land, and I’ll have to silence ye meself.”

  Jane bit back the polite word she started to mutter. He didn’t deserve gratitude, for he had helped to take her away when he might have raised the alarm, and yet, as she jumped down from the cart and felt the ground beneath her feet, she couldn’t deny that she was thankful.

  “Get moving.” He made a motion with his hand. “Keefe is fond of drinking, but he’ll notice I’m gone before long.”

  He didn’t need to tell her twice. Jane turned and ran. It wasn’t hard, not a bit.

  For she was running for her life.

  * * *

  Fear played with the mind.

  Jane discovered her senses keener, details more pronounced. She heard the men in the tavern, detecting Keefe’s laugh in spite of how many men were with him.

  The scent of fresh snow was crisper as she trudged through it and then realized her tracks were plain. With a gasp, she hurried down a street that had other tracks in the fresh snow and then around a corner, pressing her back against the wall even though she smelled the scent of piss on the stone.

  Ahead of her, she watched as two men relieved themselves before wandering down the road toward their homes. She shuddered in distaste but didn’t dare show herself. The best she might do was focus on the fact that she was free.

  But how will you survive?

  She was already shivering. The coin purse was tucked into her bodice, but she didn’t dare go into the tave
rn for a room.

  The wind whipped up, bringing a new scent. She turned, blinking as she found herself staring at a man. He was facing her. As though he could see her in the darkness.

  Keefe? Had he noted her escape?

  “Jane.”

  Diocail’s voice washed over her like warm water. She let out a gasp, needed the wall for a moment to support her because her knees had become weak.

  “Thank Christ.” Jane reached for Diocail as he clasped her close. He was hard, but there was something else, a stiffness that had her withdrawing from him. He gave a snort and pulled her back into the main road, where light made its way out of the businesses there.

  The look on his face confirmed what she’d felt.

  “Ye’re a damned fool, Jane,” he rasped out. “And lucky I came after ye. Yer pride will nae protect ye from the winter cold.”

  “Do you think I left on my own?” He did. She could see it in his eyes. Fury flickered there, and if she had any doubts, all she had to do was look past him at his men.

  Niven, Muir, Kory, Aylin, and the others sent her glares that made it plain they felt she should hang her head in shame.

  “Well, I did not,” she informed him with a rise of wounded pride. “I was taken by your clansmen.”

  “We needs get back to the tower.”

  Diocail wasn’t interested in debating the issue or listening to her. He’d condemned her, his judgment cutting her so deeply that she let him lift her up and onto the back of a horse without another word.

  It was a cold trip back, but not because of the snow. Her heart was draining of every bit of warmth. Her elation at seeing him come for her had been the last, cruel twist of the knife, it seemed. A last taste of perfection before Fate ripped happiness from her grasp. The only kindness shown her was the fact that no one seemed to want to look her way.

  It was a silent trip back to the castle. Jane slid from the back of the horse as the men ignored her. But she wasn’t willing to let injustice settle on her so easily.

  “I did not run away.” She tempered her tone, making a solid attempt at discussing the matter.

  Diocail turned to face her, Muir shadowing his laird. His expression was tight.

  “How can you believe I did?” she asked him.

  “I do nae want to.” Diocail’s temper broke. “For all that it’s true me men employed a fair bit of trickery to see us brought together, the union was a pleasing one. I asked only one thing of ye, Jane, to choose me freely.” He stopped and shook his head. “Aye, well, ye’ve made yer choice clear, and I will no’ ignore it. But ye will have to wait until spring to leave.”

  Her eyes grew round as she witnessed the flash of pain in his eyes. Never had she expected to see any weakness in him or to think she could touch such a spot within him.

  He was wounded.

  Deeply so.

  And she was as well. Pain was welling up inside her, threatening to drown her. “You don’t trust my word.”

  “Trust?” he bit out. “Ye were given the run of me house! I set ye above every other woman here and told them they’d respect ye or answer to me.”

  And he thought she’d rejected him in front of his clan.

  “Well, ye can have what ye wish,” he informed her through gritted teeth. “In the spring, I’ll have ye taken south.”

  “I did not leave,” she informed him with just as much heat. “Damn you for a fool for thinking I did.”

  “It isn’t the first time,” Diocail cut back. “And I’d be a fool to ignore it a second time.”

  His men stood watching and listening with expressions that condemned her. Diocail turned and left, and his men went with him without a single word.

  She could go after them—name the culprits and force the issue—but she realized that she had yet another thing in common with Diocail.

  She wanted him to choose her.

  Trust her.

  Take her word and never question it.

  Set her above the rest of the women? No, he’d tossed her into the fray to see if she would survive.

  Well, what did she expect?

  Happiness?

  Marriage never led to that sort of thing.

  Not for her anyway.

  This was the reason she had to return to England. More than one noble marriage proved it was impossible to rise above the bad blood between nations. There might be short periods when contentment prevailed, but in the end, the distrust was too strongly rooted in them all. Best to return to her own nation.

  Best?

  Well, perhaps most fitting was a better way to phrase it.

  Seven

  The upper chambers were a treasure trove.

  Jane might have been reeling from the shock of having Diocail turn his back on her, but she couldn’t completely ignore the beauty of what she found in the bundles. Of course, the reason she was working in the chamber was that no one wanted to see her face. It was harsh, but she enjoyed having the privacy to deal with her own feelings.

  Only her mother’s death had ever affected her so deeply.

  You haven’t known Diocail long enough to suffer heartache…

  And yet when had Fate ever been kind to her? Unfairness was something she should expect. It wasn’t the first time Fate had turned her morning milk sour.

  “I thought better of ye.”

  Jane blinked, wondering if her sanity had finally broken, and she was hearing voices.

  “Staying up here, as though ye do nae expect stubbornness from that man ye’re wed to.” Dolina stepped into the chamber Jane had claimed as her own and looked about. “Ye’ve been in here for a fortnight. Even if ye have made good progress, I know it for what it is. Ye are hiding.”

  Dolina had clearly come to take issue with her. Jane fought back a smile because no one bothered with someone they’d dismissed as beneath them.

  “The staff made it clear I was not welcome in the kitchen.” Jane took a moment to admire the chamber. “And the men do not care to suffer me in the hall.”

  Two weeks later, she was still unable to grasp how completely Diocail and his men had turned from her.

  Well, she could treat them with the same disdain, by Christ.

  Her temper was poor company though.

  Dolina was watching her. “Ye are well suited to him.”

  Jane snorted, unable to control the response. Dolina’s lips twitched in victory. “It’s a solid truth, seen it with me own eyes. There is passion between ye.”

  “I suggest you keep that opinion to yourself, Dolina,” Jane muttered. “For your laird will not thank you if he hears it.”

  Dolina settled her hand on her hip and offered Jane a look full of confidence. “He is certainly no’ the first man displeased by me opinion or by me voicing it. I assure ye, that fact will no’ silence me. Foolishness turns me stomach. It’s one of the finer things about living in the Highlands, being able to tell men when they are being pig-headed.”

  Jane smothered a little giggle behind her hand.

  “Feels good?” Dolina asked. “To laugh?”

  Jane let out a sigh. “Yes. And I do thank you for trying to be kind to me.”

  Dolina lifted an eyebrow. “Kind? Have ye forgotten the state of this house? There is naught kind about me coming up here to ask ye to come below. I need the help. Eachna is back to thinking she should run things, and ye know well she can nae make a decision and stick to it. Chaos has taken over as every maid tries her best to do the least for her pay. For all that Eachna likes the idea of leading, even she will welcome ye back if ye get that unruly lot under control.”

  Jane let out another giggle.

  “No one wanted ye there before, but ye proved yer worth,” Dolina continued. “The women are nae so blind as the men, and I’ve wagered a good silver penny against ye taking in hand those who are bold enough to try ye.”

  “A penny, is it?”
/>   Dolina nodded.

  “Well, I would not want you to lose that,” Jane answered. She reached over and replaced the rope stopper in the top of the ink well. “And…Dolina. I appreciate you taking me to task over hiding.”

  Dolina bestowed a different sort of smile. Jane decided it was the kind of smile that her own mother might have given her when she had made her proud, had her own mother lived long enough.

  * * *

  “Try me, sir, and you shall regret it.”

  Diocail looked up as Jane appeared in the back of the hall. The sight hit him like a blow to his unprotected gut. Her voice set off a jolt of excitement despite how deeply she’d wounded him.

  It didn’t seem to matter. No, he still felt something shift inside him at the sight of her, reminding him how hard he’d struggle not to cross paths with her. He couldn’t trust himself not to bend.

  As though she was indispensable to his ability to draw breath.

  “All of you will heed my rules,” she warned them. “I shall bring this house to order.”

  His men weren’t backing down. Two of them spat on the floor right at her feet. Plenty of his people turned to watch, waiting to see what their little English foundling was going to do.

  Jane wasn’t daunted. She lifted her hands, and a moment later she’d tossed the contents of a pitcher at the retainer.

  “Ye damned bitch!” he roared as he fell back a step in surprise. “That was cold!”

  The retainer lifted his hand, intending to slap her.

  “Hold.” Diocail’s command echoed down the hall.

  His man turned an incredulous look on him. “Did ye see what she did to me? This English strumpet?”

  Diocail made it to where Jane was standing firmly in the face of his man’s temper.

  “And it will be the least I do to you if I catch you pissing inside the passageway again,” Jane informed the retainer. “This tower reeks because you all treat it like a swine pen.” She shifted her attention to Diocail. “Food is carried through that passageway, and I will not have our skirts stinking because your men are somehow ignorant of where they should relieve themselves.”

  Diocail felt his eyebrows rise. Jane nodded once before she turned and went marching back toward the kitchen like a Valkyrie. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he noted several of the women from the kitchen falling into place behind her.