“She’s a beauty, all right,” Daniel remarked.
“Still half wild,” Alec interjected. He actually smiled then, and Beak concluded being half wild wasn’t a flaw in his mind.
“Her name’s Wildfire and she’s deserving of that name to be sure. The baron can’t get near her. He gave her to his youngest daughter when it became evident she was the only one who could seat the horse.”
Alec smiled again—a miracle, that—when the mare tried to bite his hand. “She’s feisty. With a good stallion, the offspring will be sound—spirited, too.”
Beak gave Alec another thorough inspection. When he met the warrior’s gaze again, he was grinning. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking about my gift to you.”
Beak pulled away from the wall, affected an important air, then said, “As I was telling you, Laird Kincaid, the baron treats his daughters just like his horses. Three right up front for anyone to see . . .”
He vowed he wasn’t going to say another word. It was up to the Scotsman to figure the rest of the riddle.
“Beak? Are you inside?”
The interruption came from Lady Jamie. Beak was so startled he almost swallowed the piece of straw he was chewing on. “That be the youngest of the baron’s daughters,” he told the two warriors. “And there’s the side door,” he added in a soft whisper. “If you’re wanting to leave now, that’s the quickest way to the main house. I’d best see what my Jamie is wanting.”
For his advanced years, Beak could still move with surprising speed. He rounded the corner and caught Jamie and her sister Mary in the center of the hallway.
“Were you talking to someone, Beak?” Mary asked. “I thought I heard—”
“Just having a little visit with Wildfire,” Beak lied.
“Jamie said you’d be napping and we’d be able to sneak right inside and take our mounts out for another quick run,” Mary confessed.
“For heaven’s sake, Mary, you needn’t be telling him that.”
“Well, you did say—”
“Shame on you, Jamie,” Beak scolded. “I never nap and you shouldn’t be sneaking around anywheres.” He gave her a ridiculous grin. “It ain’t ladylike.”
“Yes, you do nap,” Jamie told him. She found his smile contagious. “You’re in a fit mood today, aren’t you?”
“That I am,” Beak admitted. He tried to hide his eagerness, for he certainly didn’t want Jamie to suspect he was up to mischief. Beak wondered if the lairds were still lingering over Wildfire. Though the warrior Kincaid couldn’t see Lady Jamie, Beak knew that her voice, so soft and husky, would certainly capture his attention.
“And what are the pair of you up to this fine afternoon, I’m wondering to meself?” Beak inquired.
“We wanted to go riding,” Mary said. She gave Beak a puzzled look. “We just told you that. Are you feeling ill, Beak? Jamie, he looks flushed to me.”
Jamie immediately reached up and touched Beak’s forehead with the back of her hand. “He doesn’t have fever,” she told her sister.
“Quit your fretting over me,” Beak said. “I’m fit as ever.”
“Then you’ll let us go riding for another hour or two?” Mary asked.
“You’ll be walking and that’s that,” Beak announced. He folded his arms across his chest to show he meant what he’d said.
“Why can’t we ride?” Mary asked.
“Because I’ve just bedded down the ladies,” Beak said. “Your horses have been fed, pampered, and lulled to sleep.”
Beak had only just finished giving that lie when he remembered the two great stallions feeding in the stalls adjacent to the front doors. He worried Jamie or Mary might take notice. The sisters usually came flying through the stables, though, and there was a good chance he could get them back outside before they took a real look around them.
“You should be getting ready for your company,” Beak blurted out. He grabbed hold of Mary’s right arm and Jamie’s left and started dragging the two of them toward the entrance.
“Mary has convinced me not to worry about our unwanted guests on such a fine afternoon,” Jamie explained. “Do quit tugging on my arm, Beak.”
“We have three full days of freedom,” Mary interjected. “Jamie still has plenty of time to get the household ready.”
“You could try lending a hand, missy,” Beak said. “It would do you good.”
“Don’t start nagging her, Beak. Mary would help if I asked her assistance.”
Beak didn’t look as if he believed that remark.
“Speaking of asking,” Mary interjected, “there’s something I want to ask you, Beak.”
“Mary, don’t bother Beak with questions now.”
“I certainly am going to bother Beak,” Mary told her sister. “I value his advice as much as you do. Besides, I want to know if you’ve told me the truth.”
“What a sinful thing to say,” Jamie replied. Her smile told Beak she really wasn’t the least offended.
“Jamie told me all about these horrible Scots, Beak. I’m thinking of running away. What think you of that bold plan?”
Beak tried not to smile; Lady Mary looked so sincere. “It would depend on where you’d be running to, I suppose.”
“Oh, well, I hadn’t actually thought of a true destination yet . . .”
“I’m wondering why you’d want to run away, Mary,” Beak said. “What sorry tales has your sister filled your head with? Do you think they’re true or false?”
“Now, Beak, why would you think I’d lie to my sister?” Jamie asked, trying not to laugh.
“Because I know how your mind works, Jamie,” Beak answered. “You’ve been at it again, haven’t you? What stories have you teased your poor sister with today? I can see you got her quivering with fear. And I happen to know you don’t know spit about the Scots.”
“I know they’ve got the brains of sheep,” Jamie answered. She winked at Beak when Mary wasn’t noticing, then added, “Only those Scots born and raised in the Highlands, of course. The Lowland people are very intelligent, just like you, Beak.”
“Don’t try soothing me with pretty words,” Beak countered. “It ain’t going to work this time. I can see how worried Mary is. Why, she’s wringing the skin right off her hands. What’d you tell her?”
“I merely mentioned that I’d heard the Scots were a lusty people.”
“Well, now, Mary, that ain’t so bad,” Beak admitted.
“With big appetites,” Mary interjected.
“And that’s a sin?”
“It is,” Mary answered.
“Gluttony,” Jamie supplied, grinning.
“Jamie said they fight all the time.”
“No, Mary, I said they fight most of the time. If you’re going to repeat my remarks, do get them straight.”
“Do they, Beak?”
“Do they what, Mary?”
“Fight all the time.”
“I just said they liked to raid,” Jamie announced with a delicate shrug.
Beak noticed the fine blush covering Jamie’s high cheekbones. She was obviously embarrassed that her sister was telling on her.
Jamie was up to mischief, all right. She was looking just as guilty as she had the time she convinced Mary her papa had signed the order giving the convent guardianship.
She did like to jest. She was a sure sight to behold, too, dressed in Beak’s favorite color, a deep royal blue. Her hair was unbound and the thick curls fell in chaotic splendor well past her slender shoulders. There were smudges of dirt on her nose and chin.
Beak wished Laird Kincaid could get a clear look at Jamie now, for her violet eyes fairly sparkled with joy.
Mary looked just as appealing. She wore pink today, but the pretty gown was bothered with splotches of dirt. Beak wondered what trouble the two sisters had gotten into, then decided he really didn’t want to know.
He was pulled back to the topic of the Scotsmen when Mary blurted out, “Jamie told me the Scots take what they want w
hen they want it. She also said they have special preferences.”
“And what might those be?” Beak asked.
“Strong horses, fat sheep, and soft women,” Mary said.
“Horses, sheep, and women?”
“Yes, Beak, and in that order. Jamie says they’d rather sleep next to their horses than their women. Well? Is it true? Do the women come last?”
Beak didn’t answer Mary. He stared at Jamie, silently willing her with his frown to answer her sister. He thought Jamie looked a bit distressed, yet wasn’t certain if she was about to burst into apology or laughter.
Laughter won out. “Honestly, Mary, I was only teasing you.”
“Just look at the two of you,” Beak announced. “Covered with dirt like peasant babies. Fine ladies, indeed! And you, missy,” he added, pointing his finger at Jamie, “laughing like a loon. Just what were you two doing in that meadow, I’m wondering?”
“He’s trying to turn the topic,” Mary told her sister. “I’m going to get an apology from you, Jamie, before I move from this spot. And if I don’t think you’re sincere, then I’m telling Father Charles. He’ll give you a penance you won’t soon forget.”
“It’s your fault, not mine,” Jamie countered. “You’re as easy to lead along as a pup.”
Mary turned back to Beak. “You’d think my sister would be a little more understanding of my predicament. She doesn’t have to stand before the Scottish warlords and pray to God she isn’t chosen. Papa’s bent on hiding her away.”
“Only because I wasn’t named in the king’s order,” Jamie reminded her sister.
“I ain’t so sure you weren’t named,” Beak interjected.
“Papa wouldn’t lie,” Jamie argued.
“As to that, I won’t be saying you’re right or wrong, Jamie,” Beak said. “Mary? Jamie hasn’t told you anything terrible about the Scots as far as I can tell. You’re fretting over nothing, lass.”
“She told me other stories, Beak,” Mary said. “I was suspicious, of course, because her stories were so outrageous. I’m not that gullible, Beak, no matter what my sister thinks.”
Beak turned to frown at Jamie again. “Well, milady?”
Jamie let out a soft sigh. “I’ll admit I did make up some of the stories, but just as many are really true, Beak.”
“How could you be knowing what’s true and what’s false? You shouldn’t listen to gossip anyway. I taught you better than that.”
“What gossip?” Mary asked.
“Scots throw cabers at one another just for the sport of it.”
“Cabers?”
“Pine trees, Mary,” Jamie answered.
Mary let out a loud, inelegant snort. “They don’t.”
“Aye, they do,” Jamie countered. “And if tossing cabers at one another isn’t a barbaric ritual, then I don’t know what is.”
“You really think I’ll believe anything you tell me, don’t you?”
“It’s true, Mary,” Beak admitted. “They do throw cabers, though not at one another.”
Mary shook her head. “I can tell by the way you’re grinning at me that you’re teasing me, Beak. Oh, yes, you are,” she added when he started to protest. “And I suppose it’s true the Scots wear women’s clothing?”
“What—” Beak strangled on a cough. He hoped the warriors had already left the stables, after all, and couldn’t overhear this shameful talk. “I think we should stroll on outside to finish this discussion. It’s too fine a day to be cooped up inside.”
“It is true,” Jamie told her sister, ignoring Beak’s suggestion. “They do wear women’s gowns. Don’t they, Beak?”
“Where’d you hear that blasphemy?” Beak demanded.
“Cholie told me.”
“It was Cholie?” Mary asked. “Well, if you’d bothered to mention that fact, I wouldn’t have believed any of your tales. You know as well as I do that the kitchen help tips the jug of ale all day long. Cholie was probably sotted.”
“Oh, spit,” Jamie muttered. “She wasn’t sotted.”
“Oh, spit?” Mary repeated. “Honestly, Jamie, you talk just like Beak.”
“They do,” Beak said, trying to stop the budding argument.
“They do what?” Mary asked.
“Wear clothing that stops at their knees,” Beak explained.
“There, I told you so, Mary.”
“Their clothing is called their plaid, Mary. Plaid,” Beak repeated with a growl. “It’s their sacred dress. I think they’d take exception to hearing it called a woman’s gown.”
“Then it’s little wonder to me why they have to fight all the time,” Jamie interjected. She hadn’t really believed Cholie’s tale, but Beak looked so sincere she was beginning to think he was telling the truth.
“Aye,” Mary agreed. “They have to defend their gowns.”
“They aren’t gowns.”
“Now look what you’ve done, Jamie. You’ve got Beak shouting at us.”
Jamie was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry, Beak, for upsetting you. My, you are nervous today. You keep looking over your shoulder. Do you think someone’s going to pounce on you from behind? What in—”
“I missed me nap,” Beak blurted out. “That’s why I’m surly.”
“You must go and have a proper rest, then,” Jamie advised. “Come along, Mary. Beak’s been so patient with us and I can tell he isn’t feeling at all well.”
She took hold of Mary’s hand and started toward the door. “Good God, Mary, they actually do wear women’s gowns. I didn’t really believe Cholie, but now I’m convinced.”
“I’m running away and that’s that,” Mary said, loud enough for Beak to overhear. She suddenly stopped, then whirled around. “One last question, please?” she called out.
“Yes, Mary?”
“Would you be knowing if the Scots hate fat women, Beak?”
He didn’t have any answer for that absurd question. After he shrugged his shoulders, Mary turned around and chased after Jamie. Both sisters lifted the hems of their skirts and started running toward the upper bailey. Beak let out a soft chuckle as he watched the pair.
“She was given a man’s name.”
The stable master nearly jumped out of his tunic. He hadn’t heard Alec Kincaid’s approach. He turned around and came face to shoulders with the giant warrior. “’Twas her mama’s way of giving her a place in this family. Baron Jamison weren’t the man who fathered Jamie. He claimed her for his own, though. I’ll give him that much kindness. Did you get a good look at her, then?” he added in a rush.
Alec nodded.
“You’ll be taking her with you, won’t you?”
The Kincaid stared at the old man a long minute before answering.
“Aye, Beak. I’ll be taking her with me.”
The choice had been made.
Chapter Three
Jamie didn’t find out about the Scotsmen’s early arrival until Merlin, the keeper of the pasture cattle, chased her down to tell her there was yet another great commotion going on up at the main house and her papa wanted her to straighten it all out for him.
Merlin failed to mention the Scotsmen in his stuttered announcement. It wasn’t his fault, however, for his beautiful mistress had turned her gaze directly upon him just when he was beginning his explanation. Those violet eyes had made him quite awestruck. Then his mistress smiled, causing Merlin’s heart to start fluttering like a silly little lady’s maid. His mind didn’t flutter, though. No, it merely emptied of all thoughts save one: Lady Jamie was giving him her undivided attention.
The stutter only worsened, of course, but it didn’t really matter. Jamie couldn’t immediately obey the summons anyway. There was an injury that needed her immediate attention. Poor old Silas, his eyesight as weak as his hands, was carrying on something fierce, bellowing loud enough, in fact, to cause the pigs to squeal in protest.
Silas had accidentally sliced his upper arm instead of the side of treated hide he was trying to carve in
to a saddle lining.
The injury was minor and didn’t require searing with a hot knife, yet Jamie still had to spend a good long while soothing the old man after she’d cleaned and wrapped the injury.
He needed pampering, and that was that.
Merlin stood by cook’s side during the commotion. He was a little jealous of all the attention Silas was getting from their mistress. He was also extremely anxious because he couldn’t seem to remember that other bit of information he’d been ordered to relate to her.
Jamie finally finished her task and left Silas in Cholie’s capable hands. She knew the two servants would share at least one jug of ale between them, but didn’t think that was too sinful, considering Silas’s upset and Cholie’s need to give comfort the only way she knew how.
“I can only put out one fire at a time,” she told Merlin when he reminded her of the fuss going on up at the main house. She smiled to soften her rebuke, then left the worried-looking cattle keeper. Jamie ran all the way up the hill, her skirts raised to her knees. Three playful greyhounds ran alongside her. Neither Jamie nor her pets slowed down until they’d rushed through the open door and entered the great hall.
She came to an abrupt halt then. The two warriors leaning casually against the mantel immediately caught her attention.
Jamie was simply too stunned to hide her initial reaction. God’s truth, they were the biggest men she’d ever seen. She couldn’t quit staring at them.
It was unfortunate, too, for the first words out of her mouth weren’t very ladylike. “Good God!”
It was only a whispered exclamation, strangled out at that, but Jamie could tell by the way the bigger of the two giants raised his right eyebrow that he’d heard her.
She didn’t dare curtsy, knowing full well she’d land on her face if she tried. And she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from the taller of the two men, either, the one now trying to stare her to her knees.
He was the meanest-looking man she’d ever seen.
She told herself she wasn’t afraid. Nay, she was too angry to be frightened. Jamie stood her ground, meeting the warrior’s gaze a long minute until she could regain a little composure, then realized that as long as she continued to stare at him, she’d never be able to accomplish that feat.
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