The Highland Henchman

by Amy Jarecki

  And when she’d found him sleeping, his shadowy features softened in the dim light, the memory of kissing him in the tent came flooding back. Unable to resist temptation, she knelt beside him, his chest rising slightly with each soft breath.

  She stretched out her fingers and rested her hands on his hard belly. A welcome warmth spread through her insides. She’d teased Bran with her kisses, and rather than shoo her away, he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her over his hard body.

  Entering the solar through the secret door hidden behind the cupboard, Enya tiptoed past Heather’s small room. She stopped for a moment and held her breath. Silence.

  Enya placed her hand on her chamber latch. The door creaked. She opened it only wide enough to slip inside. Crossing the room, she slipped under her bedclothes and nestled into her pillows. Her father had told Bran to keep his distance? Well, she’d see about that. Enya could no sooner stay away from the Highland warrior than she could food or drink. Bran had become her sustenance.

  She ran her hand over the smooth linen sheets. Once the queen was reinstated, she would ask Bran to take her far away from Renfrewshire. Sail to a place where it did not matter if her father was a powerful, landowning baronet.

  Enya had barely drifted off to sleep when her chamber door burst open. Heather pulled aside the heavy drapes, revealing the morning sun. “Enya, are you ill?”

  “No.” Enya stretched. “Just tired.”

  Heather placed her hand on Enya’s forehead. “Rarely have I seen you abed this late. Of all of us, you’re always the first to rise.”

  Wishing Heather would leave her to sleep until luncheon, Enya sat up. “I had trouble sleeping after yesterday’s ordeal.”

  Heather pulled a corner of the bedclothes down and frowned. “Why are you wearing your dressing gown?”

  Enya prayed she wasn’t blushing. She covered her face with her hands and thought of a reasonable response, praying Heather would leave her be. “I paced the floor for hours.”

  “Your knee won’t heal with you pacing about.” Heather pushed up Enya’s skirts and examined the offending body part. “The swelling has gone down, but the bruising is worse.” She picked up her jar of salve from the bedside table. “Sit back while I rub this in.”

  “’Tis much better today.”

  “I shall be the judge of that.”

  Enya reclined against the pillows. Though intuitive, Heather had believed her lie. This time. Enya would need to be more careful in the future.

  After convincing Heather she was well enough to walk down to the hall to break her fast, Enya found only her mother at the table. “Where are Father and Robert?”

  “Rode out this morning.”

  Ah yes, the reason for Bran’s ride to Rutherglen. “Are they meeting about my betrothal?” God, she hoped not.

  Mother spread cream on her scone with quick flicks of her wrist. “Unfortunately, not this time.”

  A sickly knot dropped to the pit of Enya’s stomach. The edge to her mother’s voice told her it had something to do with the queen and the awful split between the Marian Party and Regent Moray’s usurping King’s Party.

  Enya knew the answer, but needed to ask the question. “War is imminent?”

  “It appears so. Your father has been summoned by the Hamiltons.” Mother grasped her wrist. “Speak of this to no one.”

  ***

  Enya climbed into the window well overlooking the courtyard. Though she knew Bran wouldn’t be there, her stomach sank, as if she’d hoped there had been a change of plans and Bran had stayed behind.

  Curses.

  Heather ambled past with her arms full of linens. “You’d best stay inside for a few days and work on your embroidery. That knee will heal much faster if you stay off it.”

  Enya groaned. “I’ll go mad cooped up inside.”

  Heather leaned in. “You might consider making a keepsake for Sir Bran.” She lowered her voice. “Lord Ross treated him badly, if you ask me. He fought for us like a true knight. I’ve no idea what we would have done without him.”

  Enya beamed. “’Tis so true Heather, and no one sees it but us.”

  “Be mindful of these walls—they have ears.”

  Enya glanced sideways. “What would suit? A kerchief?”

  “A kerchief is always nice, but I recall him mentioning his cottage. Why not a panel for the wall? Do you not have one of Halkhead House already started? With it, he would always remember his time here.”

  “Yes. I’ve been working on that panel for some time.” Enya bit her thumbnail. The one Mother was always tearing out the stitches on. “But ’tis quite an undertaking.”

  “I could help.”

  “Really?” Enya clapped her hands. “Do you think we could have it ready before he returns to Raasay?”

  “If what the servants say is true, then yes.”

  Enya didn’t like the foreboding tone in Heather’s voice. “What are the servants saying?”

  “Lord Ross is meeting with the nobles for Queen Mary. Once the queen makes her escape from Lochleven, the troops will assemble.”

  “Where?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Do you know when?”

  “Henry said mayhap a week or two.”

  “A week?” Enya’s spirits dove. “I cannot finish the panel in a week.”

  “You can if you put your mind to it. Your problem is you cannot sit still.”

  “True—and I hate embroidery.” Enya wanted to know more about this secret coup the barons were planning. “And how did Henry come by his information?”

  “Your father is quite careless about leaving missives on his desk. ’Tis nearly impossible not to notice them.”

  “For servants who can read.”

  “Of course there’s that. Fortunately, Henry can, otherwise we’d all be in the dark.”

  Enya squeezed her arms across her midriff. “I only hope we can avoid bloodshed.”

  “Unfortunately there are always losses when men take up arms.”

  “I pray Sir Bran will fight well.”

  “Sir Bran? And what of the other Ross men?” Heather narrowed her eyes. “You have feelings beyond friendship for our Highlander.”

  By the fire burning in her cheeks, Enya knew a blush had given her away. She hung her head. “Yes.”

  Heather raised her chin. “Your father will never stand for it.”

  “I ken.”

  Heather transferred her linens to one arm and patted Enya’s shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with admiring a handsome knight from afar—but you ken a man like him is not meant for a noble lass such as you.”

  Enya studied her folded hands. “I am painfully aware.”

  “And what are your feelings for Lord Hamilton?”

  “Honestly?” Enya met Heather’s gaze. “I wish he could make my insides flutter as they do when I look at Sir Bran. ’Twould make this whole marriage business far more palatable.”

  “Mayhap your heart will find love once this conflict between the queen and Regent Moray has ended.”

  Enya forced a smile. She doubted she’d ever feel anything more than a tepid fondness for Claud Hamilton.

  Alas, her rugged Highland knight might soon exist only in her memory.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rutherglen ~ 30th April, 1568

  Claud Hamilton sat beside his father at the head of the long table. Armed with pikes and battleaxes, his most trusted guards stood at the barred doors. Only nobles, bishops and lairds who had sworn an oath of fealty to the queen were allowed within the walls of Rutherglen Hall. The information Bishop Hamilton, who sat at the far end of the table, was about to disclose was far too sensitive to risk falling on capricious ears.

  Archibald Campbell, the fifth Earl of Argyll, stood. Full of self-importance, Claud despised the man. “We must first decide who will captain the queen’s army.”

  Claud ground his knuckles into the palm of his hand. The bishop had not called the session to order a
nd Argyll was already posturing for power. The hall flared in an uproar.

  The Earl of Eglinton stood, raising his hands in the air. “I have the greatest army of men. I should be the one to lead.”

  How the blazes did Eglinton know who had the greatest contingent? That had not yet been discussed. Besides, the earl was the supreme, most damnable fool in the room.

  Claud brushed his fingers across his ruff. “I bring an elite cavalry of fifty horse in addition to five hundred foot soldiers. And I am nearest the throne in rank.”

  At the far end of the table, the archbishop frowned at him. Claud eyed his uncle with contempt. The holy man had best take charge of this meeting, else the hall would soon erupt in a full-on brawl and there would be no noble peer to lead the queen’s army.

  Archbishop Hamilton pounded his staff on the floorboards. “Silence!” Glaring across the stern faces of the queen’s men, he waited until all resumed their seats. “No doubt the queen will choose her own lieutenant of the kingdom. I’ve brought you here today to advise her escape is imminent.”

  “When?” asked Lord Ross.

  “The date will not be disclosed, but be forewarned it is very close. Very. I need each of you to declare your numbers to the scribe. The queen will want to know the strength of her army straight away.”

  Lord Sommerville placed his palms on the table, leaning in. “Where and when shall we assemble?”

  “Unless you receive word otherwise, all soldiers shall gather here at Rutherglen nine days hence.”

  Argyll bounded to his feet again. “Nine days? That gives us very little time—”

  Every man in the hall stood and shouted protestations, except Claud. He leaned back, folded his arms and grinned. The inner circle of lords had chosen Rutherglen as the site to plan the uprising. Mary, Queen of Scots would soon be within his grasp.

  Claud watched Lord Ross across the table. Fortunately, Enya had inherited her mother’s good looks from the Semple side of the family. Of late, Claud had more difficulty pushing Enya from his thoughts than he cared to admit. Thank heavens he’d not spent more time at Halkhead House during the tournament, else this business with the queen would be far less palatable.

  ***

  Bran kept his eyes on Claud Hamilton. The snake glared at him from the portico, standing beside Lord Ross. Bran would have thought the nobles had enough sense to keep their voices lowered, but he could hear every word.

  Claud tilted his chin upward. “I see you still have the Highlander in your guard.”

  Ross regarded Bran over his shoulder. “The beast is the best sword. He and the others will be gone soon enough.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Ross rapped Claud’s shoulder. “You’re still harboring a bit of jealousy, are you?”

  Hamilton shot him an edgy glance. “Not at all.”

  Ross started down the steps. “Good. It doesn’t become a well-bred man.”

  Bran turned his attention to his reins and walked his horse beside Malcolm. “I’ve watched the peacocks long enough.”

  “Aye, if we dunna leave now, Hamilton will be asking for another joust to prove how big his cock is.” Rewan reined his horse alongside Bran, and the three of them led the party back to Halkhead House.

  Having left Griffon in the stable boy’s care, Bran wasn’t upset they were returning this soon, but it did confuse him. “It makes no sense to me—we rode all the way to Rutherglen just to turn around a day later. What’s going on?”

  Malcolm slid his fingers under his helm and rubbed his forehead. “All I know is we’ve little time to prepare. They will be calling for us soon.”

  “To fight for Queen Mary?”

  “Aye.”

  Rewan steered his horse around a boulder. “But she’s still imprisoned in Lochleven. Will we storm the castle?”

  Malcolm shrugged. “I know not. We shall gather the troops and meet at Rutherglen on the eighth of May.”

  Bran grumbled under his breath. “It all seems a bit muddled, like the sails of a ship bearing head on into the wind.”

  Malcolm slapped his reins against his mount’s shoulder. “War always does.”

  “I’ll just be happy to go back to Lewis,” Rewan said. “I’ve got a bonny lassie waiting for me.”

  Surprisingly, Bran did not share in Rewan’s enthusiasm. The end of his tenure with Ross meant the end of his affair with Enya. He doubted he’d see her again once he left for Rutherglen, and with his patrol duty, mayhap not at all. His heart twisted. It was for the best. He needed to spirit away from the temptress before their relationship went further. He’d almost given into his basal desires when she’d visited him in the loft. He didn’t know how long he could resist her, and the bonny lass obviously had no intention of resisting him.

  Enya was as free as a Peregrine falcon, flying through life, wanting to experience all of it with a wild abandon he’d never before encountered in a woman. If only he could throw caution aside and follow his desires as she did hers. But his loyalties bound him to a code of behavior upon which he could never turn his back.

  “On the morrow, you’ll ride out with patrol after the guard spars,” Malcolm said.

  “Very well.” A breeze picked up and Bran sniffed. “I’m looking forward to a bit o’ rain on the trail. It reminds a man of the comforts of home.”

  Malcolm chuckled. “You’re not going soft, are you, Highlander?”

  ***

  True to her word, Heather helped Enya embroider the panel. Her serving maid had been right. It went faster when Enya focused and worked on it for more than ten minutes at a time. The past few days she had set the piece down only for meals and sleep.

  Embroidery of the manse was finished and she only had the gardens to complete. Enya took her shears to her dressing table. She lifted up the back of her hair and pulled a small clump from underneath. Holding her breath, she snipped. The long red lock fell to the floor. Enya smoothed down her tresses and surveyed her work in the mirror. Her hair was so thick, the small clip she’d made wasn’t noticeable.

  She picked up the lock and threaded several strands through her bone needle. This will be perfect for the azaleas and Bran will always have a part of me.

  After making the painstakingly small stitches, she completed two of the flowers and held her work to the light streaming in through the window. She smiled and ran her finger over the tiny azaleas she’d just created. Yes, she could have used silk thread died fuchsia or red, but her own hair blended well with the greenery, and to Enya, it made the keepsake far more personal.

  She held her breath when the faint rumble of horse hooves clomped just beyond the gate. Butterflies of excitement tickled her insides. Had the men returned? They weren’t expected for at least another day.

  She put aside her work and dashed to the window in the corridor. The sun had set, casting long shadows across the courtyard, but Enya could see clearly enough. She liked what she saw. Leading the guard beside Malcolm, Bran rode tall in his saddle. His broad shoulders were square and he was armed to protect and defend her father and brother, who rode behind. She doubted there was a soul in all of Scotland who would want to face her Highlander in battle.

  Approaching the house, Bran looked up to her window. With a flutter of her heart, Enya waved. Bran’s teeth flashed with his grin. Then her father’s scowl caught her eye, as did Robert’s.

  After stopping only long enough for Lord Ross and Robert to dismount, Bran rode straight to the stables. Enya craned her neck to watch him. The stairs below creaked and Enya moved to the landing to greet her brother. “What news of Lochleven?”

  Robert’s eyes registered a hint of shock. “Mother told you?”

  “Aye.” Enya had learned far more from Heather, though she would never admit to that fact. “Well?”

  “You should not be privy to such news. The more who know, the more precarious the queen’s position.”

  Enya grasped the banister. “Will there be civil war?”

  “Aye.�
��

  “Soon?”

  “The nobles will assemble with their armies within a week.”

  Enya gulped. Only a week? Such a small amount of time before he would be gone—never to return to Renfrewshire.

  Robert patted her shoulder. “No need to fret about me. Father and I have troops to fight before us. We will be well away from the battle.”

  Enya blinked. She had little doubt Robert and Father would be safe, using Bran to assure it.

  Robert bent forward and eyed her. “That is what’s got you so worried, has it not?”

  “Of course—I care for all our men.” A tear stung the corner of her eye, and she sucked in a breath, willing it away. “I shall pray this hostility is soon ended.”

  “So kind of you, sis.” He chuckled. “And while you’re at it, pray that big Highlander of yours meets a swift end. One wouldn’t want to see him linger with his gut run through.”

  “I never considered you to be black-hearted, Robert. It doesn’t become you.” Enya turned and headed for her chamber before Robert could sense exactly how much his words had affected her.

  ***

  Heather had long ago come and gone after helping Enya change into her linen nightdress. Planning to steal away, Enya worked on the panel until the moon rose to high point. Certain all were asleep, she crept to the solar and opened the false cupboard door. She had to talk to Bran, had to warn him about the fighting, and most of all, she needed his arms to wrap around her if only one more time.

  Carrying a candle, she tiptoed through the passage, sure she had been the only person to use it since—well, since her father built the manse before she was born. Enya often wondered if Father even remembered the secret passage’s existence. Surely he did, though its use would only be necessary in times of war—possibly times that were coming.

  It was camouflaged so well, anyone looking for a secret entry would not discover it in the garden. Enya left her candle in an alcove just behind the door, as she always did. As a safeguard, she kept a flint there too.