Highland Wolf

by Hannah Howell

  Sitting up, she uncovered the small plate of venison bits mixed with a cooked egg that she had scavenged for her pet and set it down on the bed beside her. Purring deeply and loudly, Mungo moved off her to eat and she idly stroked its back as she shook free of the last tenuous grip of a long, deep sleep.

  Oddly enough, despite the depth of her sleep, she could recall a very vivid dream, one she had had many times before. This time, however, the ruddy, green-eyed wolf was watching her as she kissed a tall, dark-haired man. A man with the same color eyes as the wolf, she thought and frowned. That kiss she had shared with Rolf had certainly added new warmth to her dreams, but it was only now that she realized he had those same eyes as the wolf that had haunted her dreams for a little over three years.

  “How verra strange, Mungo,” she murmured as the cat curled up by her side, resting its head on her chest. “Do ye think my dreams are some kind of, weel, a vision? Nay, that cannae be. Wheesht, I have enough trouble trying nay to feel what everyone round me is feeling. I dinnae need to become afflicted with the sight as weel.”

  Mungo yawned widely and began to lazily wash a paw.

  “He kissed me, Mungo. Oh, I ken that I have been kissed before and one or two times I actually wanted to be kissed, but, wheesht, none kissed me like he kissed me. I have certainly ne’er dreamed of any mon who kissed me. Most of them I wouldnae want to dream of, true enough, but, aye, one or two didnae repulse me. But e’en they didnae make me dream of them. Rolf kisses me but once and I cannae shake the memory of it; it e’en invades my dreams of my wolf.” She grimaced. “I fear my heart may be readying itself to do something verra, verra foolish.”

  Seeing that Mungo was asleep, Annora carefully slipped out of her bed. Despite losing its comfortable pillow on her chest as well as her warmth, the cat barely blinked. It was a sad state of affairs when one was reduced to discussing one’s troubles with a cat, Annora mused as she hurried to get washed up and dressed. Talks about kisses and men were best had with other women, but Donnell had made certain that she had no close confidante amongst the women of Dunncraig.

  Refusing to become maudlin over all she lacked, Annora went to say a good morning to Meggie. The little girl was all smiles and chatter when Annora reached the nursery. Meggie’s plans for the day ran one into the other as she babbled. The small grain of sadness and self-pity that had taken root in Annora’s heart was soon banished. The maid Annie quietly let Annora know that their guests had left at dawn and Annora smiled with relief at the thought of breaking her fast without having to face the Chisholms again.

  After telling Meggie to heed the young Annie who had prepared her such a fine meal to break her fast with, Annora headed down to the great hall to break her own. She wondered if one reason she was so cheerful was simply that the Chisholms were gone and, as was their usual habit, would not be back for a few months. From what little she had been able to discern, and the lack of any hastily performed ceremony, no final agreement had been made with Donnell concerning the betrothal of Halbert Chisholm to Meggie. Donnell obviously wanted to dangle the bait before the Chisholms for a while longer.

  The evening meal the night before had been a torment for Annora, one that she doubted she would soon forget. She had spent every minute of it expecting Donnell to announce that Meggie was now betrothed to Halbert Chisholm. The conversation she had overheard between the Chisholms and Donnell had certainly made it sound as if it was all settled between them, but now she had to wonder. Since she did not know what each man wanted or held over the head of the other, she suspected the why of it all would be very hard to discern. It was tempting to simply confront Donnell and demand some answers, but she knew that was just her frustration talking. She knew it was absolute foolishness to think a confrontation with Donnell about anything was a good idea, and it was certainly unwise to think he would calmly accept her opinion on anything.

  Stepping into the great hall, Annora breathed a silent sigh of relief. The Chisholms were really gone. There was no sign of them in the great hall and they never missed a meal. Donnell was there talking to Rolf, but even Egan was absent. It was a little unsettling to face a man she had so recently kissed and clung to with such abandon, but it was better than facing Egan and the others again. The little bench where she always sat to eat was beautifully empty. She approached cautiously, however, for she did not know if Donnell would want her to be there while he discussed work with Master Lavengeance. When Donnell only briefly glanced her way and then continued to talk to Rolf, she was relieved. She sat down quickly, and helped herself to some food as surreptitiously as possible.

  Pretending not to listen to the conversation between the men going on so close to her was difficult. Donnell was discussing the making of chairs. He talked of how he had seen some at some rich man’s keep and wanted a full set of something similar for his head table. Annora badly wanted to gape at the man, revealing her astonishment, but she quickly filled her mouth with oatmeal to smother the urge.

  A quick glance at Master Lavengeance tempted Annora to reach out with her gift to see if she could sense what he was feeling. There was certainly no hint of how he felt about Donnell’s elaborate plans upon his handsome face, and Annora felt strangely compelled to know what was going on behind that smooth, calm mask of a face. The moment she let herself reach out to him, she began to think it had been a mistake to do so. The rage she had felt before was now sharp and boiling up inside him. Annora was astonished that no sign of that revealed itself upon his face. There was also a wealth of scorn inside him, directed at Donnell, but Master Lavengeance’s fine voice was soft and polite.

  Suddenly Master Lavengeance rubbed his hand over his mouth as if he was thinking and then he spoke quickly in French. Annora nearly choked on the oatmeal she had just put into her mouth. She glanced at Donnell, and the faint frown of confusion on his face told her that Donnell had no idea of how vilely he had just been insulted. It took every scrap of willpower she possessed not to blush over the coarse words Master Lavengeance had spoken in his deep, calm, and courteous voice. The man detested Donnell so deeply and completely that she had to wonder why this wood-carver was even at Dunncraig. How could he work for a man he loathed so thoroughly?

  “Curse it all,” muttered Donnell and then he scowled at Annora. “What did he say? Are the things I am asking beyond his capabilities? Come now, ye understand him, dinnae ye?”

  Annora took a deep drink of her goat’s milk to drown the urge to repeat Master Lavengeance’s insults word for word. She was sure a beating would be the very least Donnell would give the man for those words. Donnell may not have loved his mother, but Annora was sure he would not want to hear anyone say that the woman had been the lover of goats. So she decided the best thing to do was to tell Donnell some of what she had been thinking as she had listened to his grand plans.

  “Master Lavengeance but wonders if the design ye spoke of putting onto the back of the chairs would make them uncomfortable to sit in.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the faintest glint of amusement in Master Lavengeance’s eye. “T’would be a wee bit, weel, bumpy, aye?”

  Donnell frowned, obviously struggling to picture what he wanted in his mind and failing. “Humph. That wouldnae be a good thing. Weel, I will leave the design up to ye, then,” he said to Master Lavengeance. “I expect ye to show me what ye plan first, however. What else?” he then demanded of Annora. “I ken that wasnae all he said, for there were a lot of words there.”

  Weel, he also said that he thought your father was the king’s whore, she mused, but simply said, “He says ye need to decide if ye want to use a heavy wood or a lighter one.”

  “Heavy. I want good sturdy chairs.” As if realizing that he was having to ask for Annora’s help simply to make his wishes understood to a mere wood-carver, Donnell scowled at Annora. “Why do ye ken this language anyway? What does a wee lass need to ken such things for?”

  “I suspect I dinnae really need to ken it,” she said in an attempt to keep his a
nnoyance from growing, “but when I was but a child and still living with my grandsire, I had a friend named Mungo. His mother was French.” The memory of Lady Aimee made Annora feel both sad and comforted, for the woman had been very kind to her, and kindness was something she had received little of as a child. “She taught me.”

  “Ah, I suspicion she wanted someone to talk to, eh? Easier to gossip in her own tongue.”

  “Aye, I suspicion that was it.”

  Pleased that Donnell’s annoyance had lessened and he turned his full attention back to Master Lavengeance, Annora finished her meal. She also pulled back from the wood-carver, understanding the harsh feelings he had toward Donnell, but finding them very uncomfortable to share. She had enough of her own to deal with. The moment she was done eating she excused herself, but as she stood up to leave the table, Donnell grabbed her by the arm. Annora tensed, afraid that she was about to pay dearly for knowing something that her Cousin did not She saw Master Lavengeance’s whole body tense and forced herself to squarely meet his gaze, trying to convey to him that it would be useless, even dangerous, to interfere in whatever Donnell planned to do now.

  “Best ye dinnae go too far, Cousin,” Donnell said to her. “I may have need of ye to help me understand the mon again.”

  Even though she could hear the resentment in Donnell’s voice, Annora felt weak-kneed with relief. “As ye wish, Cousin. May I go to Meggie now?”

  “Aye, get away with ye.”

  Bobbing in a swift, shallow curtsey to both men, Annora fled the room as fast as she could without actually running. It bothered her that Donnell wanted her help, for the resentment he felt for even having to ask for it would only grow each time she had to come to his aid. She decided it might be wise to try to find a moment to speak privately with the wood-carver. It was a little amusing to hear Donnell vilified, but she knew she could easily pay dearly for that brief amusement If Donnell ever discovered exactly what Master Lavengeance was saying, the wood-carver would pay even more dearly. The last man who insulted Donnell had died slowly and painfully while hanging in a cage from the battlements of Dunncraig Keep. Since the mere thought of the handsome wood-carver meeting the same gruesome fate made her feel horrified and deeply afraid for him, Annora knew she would be cornering the man at the earliest opportunity.

  James watched Annora leave the great hall, enjoying the gentle sway of her hips. He felt a little guilty about what he had said to Donnell even though it had eased the strength of the anger churning inside him. For a moment he had forgotten that Annora understood French. He never should have spoken so crudely in front of her. Worse, he had the feeling that he had just caused her some trouble with her cousin. He would have to be more careful, he thought, as he turned his gaze back to Donnell only to find the man staring at him. MacKay did not really look angry, but there was a narrow-eyed warning easy to read in the man’s expression.

  “That one isnae for ye, laddie,” Donnell said as he poured himself and then James a tankard of ale. “Best ye dinnae let your gaze rest on her too much.”

  “She sits too high?” James murmured and then took a drink of ale.

  “Aye, I suspicion she does although ye have a verra fancy name for a common mon. But she is meant for Egan. He wouldnae like to see that look ye had in your eye as ye watched her fine arse swish out of the room.”

  It was hard not to strike the man down for speaking so crudely about Annora. “They are betrothed, eh?”

  “Weel, they will be soon if Egan has his way. Now, let us try and make each other understood as we talk some more on these chairs I am wanting.”

  James nearly rolled his eyes. If he did not hold fast to the hope that he would soon be sitting back in the laird’s chair, he would probably be even more upset over MacKay’s scramble for elegance at the expense of all the people of Dunncraig. There was nothing he could do about the neglect of his lands and his people until he had proven his innocence and regained the right to rule his lands. If he increased the beauty of the keep as he worked to destroy MacKay, he could perhaps find some comfort in that. He also knew that the moment he regained his good name and his lands, his family would help him begin to restore Dunncraig lands to the efficiency they had once enjoyed. It was the only thing that held him back from acting too quickly.

  Rubbing at the ache in the small of her back, Annora looked over the finished garden. If there was enough rain and sun over the next few months, Dunncraig would have all the herbs it needed for cooking and healing. There would also be some flowers to enjoy. Satisfied with her work, she praised Meggie for all her help and sent the little girl off to the nursery to get cleaned up. Annora began to collect up the little bags the seeds had been stored in and the tools she and Meggie had used to plant them. As she straightened up, someone grabbed her from behind, causing her to drop everything, and then she was dragged over to the wall of the keep. It was all done so quickly she had not had time to gather her wits enough to say anything before she found herself already near the wall.

  For just a moment, Annora thought it was Rolf despite the roughness of the treatment, but she quickly realized her mistake. The feel was wrong, as was the smell. By the time she felt herself thrust up against the wall, she knew that Egan had her. The brief look she got of his face before he forced a kiss on her mouth told her that he was tired of playing the gentle wooer.

  This time, she thought, he would not stop. She could almost smell the lust in him. Unlike the desire she had felt in Master Lavengeance, Egan’s did not stir a similar wanting in her. The feel of his hard mouth bruising hers, the taste of him as he shoved his tongue into her mouth, and the way he rubbed his groin against her had her feeling nauseated and terrified. Worse, because it was late in the day and she was in the far rear bailey of the keep, she did not think anyone would be coming along to disturb them, something that had worked to make Egan back away in the past. For some reason he did not want people to think he had to force himself on her despite his reputation as a brutal rapist, someone who had left far too many women at Dunncraig and elsewhere bruised, bleeding, and afraid of men from then on.

  Annora tried to push him away but he was too big and too strong. Trapped against the hard wall as she was, she could barely move. Kicking her feet proved useless and he had her hands pinned tightly against the stones, so tightly that she felt a slow trickle of blood run down her wrists. There was a sense of harsh, brutal hunger in the man, something almost feral and very frightening.

  Then, suddenly, he was gone and she was free. While she stood there gasping, she watched Master Lavengeance knock Egan unconscious with one powerful punch to the jaw. For a moment she was stunned both by the fortunate appearance of Master Lavengeance, but also by the powerful rage filling the air around him. Then she saw him grab the unconscious Egan by the front of his shirt and yank him up out of the dirt, pulling his fist back in preparation for another blow.

  “Nay,” she gasped and stumbled forward to grab at Master Lavengeance’s arm.

  “Do not tell me that you were enjoying that,” James growled, even as he fought to conquer the blind rage that had engulfed him at the sight of Egan pinning Annora against the wall and grinding his body against hers. He was surprised that he had retained enough of his wits to speak in French.

  “Men can be such idiots,” she muttered. “Nay, fool. One punch can be explained away as a mon who thought he saw a woman being raped and paid little heed to who the couple was. More than that and it looks to be a verra personal beating, aye?”

  James knew immediately that she was right and he threw Egan back down. He put his hands on his hips, kept his gaze fixed on the unconscious Egan, and took several deep breaths to further push aside his fury. When he looked at Annora again, however, it almost all returned. Her lips were bruised and swollen and there was a fear in her eyes that was new. He had heard of Egan’s reputation for brutalizing women and suspected she had thought she was about to be another of his victims.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked in
French.

  “There will be a few bruises but nay more than that. Thank ye,” she added in a soft, tremulous voice.

  Annora felt a strong urge to cry and did not understand that. She had been saved. She should be feeling relieved and happy. There was some of that, but mostly she was still afraid and she wanted to hurl herself to the ground and weep like a heartbroken child. It took her a moment to realize what ailed her. Egan had finally crossed that fine line that had always kept her safe from his brutality. She could no longer think that he would not treat her as he did too many others. There was little doubt in her mind that she would be flinching at every movement she caught out of the corner of her eye and searching every shadow for some sign of him.

  “Are you able to lock your bedchamber door?” James asked her.

  “Aye. I usually do.”

  “Good. Make that always instead of usually.”

  Despite the fact that French was a soft language, Master Lavengeance’s command sounded very hard and cold. There was still a lot of anger in him and not one that was part of that rage that she could always sense inside him. This was new and it was aimed directly at Egan. Egan deserved it, but Annora became afraid for Master Lavengeance. Egan was Donnell’s first, and perhaps his most loyal, friend and minion. It was not wise to make an enemy of either man.

  “Ye had best be verra careful, Master Lavengeance,” she said as she stepped forward to take him by the arm and tug him away from where Egan lay sprawled facedown on the ground.

  “And you must call me Rolf.” James wished he could hear her say his real name, say it in a soft voice made thick and husky with passion.

  Annora blushed, but nodded. “And ye must call me Annora.” She glanced back at Egan as she continued to tug Rolf to the door leading back inside the keep. “But nay in front of him or Donnell, aye?”

  James hesitated in their retreat long enough to tug free of her grasp, take her by the arm, and become the one leading them away from the place where Egan had tried to rape her. “He has already told me that you sit too high for me and that Egan is wanting you.”