“What do ye find so amusing?”
She lifted her eyes to find Ruairi’s captain across from her. “Mister Murray…” She didn’t remember extending an invitation for the man to sit, but this was another example of his total lack of comportment. Shaking her head with displeasure, she gestured to the chair on which he already sat. “Please, why don’t you join me?”
He failed to notice her mocking tone and folded his arms on the table. “I see your sister is feeling much better this morn.”
“Yes. I truly can’t thank you enough for seeing to her last eve. Your kindness was most welcome.”
Fagan’s face reddened before he quickly changed the subject. “I donna want to trouble Ruairi and Ravenna since they are recently wed, but we need to do something about Katherine and Torquil.”
She lifted a brow. “We?”
“Aye. The lass follows him relentlessly, and he’s verra annoyed by it.”
“Mister Murray, they’re children, and I think they’re simply getting to know one another. I understand this may be difficult for you to believe, but Kat’s never done anything like this before. I think she’s just not used to having someone around who’s near her own age, a boy, and everything here is so new to her. She’s left England, lives in a castle, and has people around her with whom she’s not familiar, but I do understand your concern. What did Torquil say to her? I assumed his words were none too kind.”
Fagan paused. “Ye assumed right. He told Katherine to stop, and then he told her to go home. I assure ye the lad will nae be speaking that way again to the lass, but can ye—”
“Yes, of course. I’ll talk to Kat.” Grace shook her head and spoke in a dry tone. “Frankly, I don’t know what’s wrong with her and Elizabeth lately.”
“Elizabeth?”
When Grace realized her words were spoken faster than she could stay them, she looked down at her oatmeal. “It’s nothing. I spoke before—”
He lowered his voice. “Ye had nay trouble telling me your sister wasnae a governess, but ye have an issue talking to me about what’s wrong with Elizabeth?”
“Mister Murray, I don’t feel at ease discussing these subjects with you.”
“Then call me Fagan. Mister Murray was my father’s name anyway.”
Grace looked around and then softened her voice. “Now is that truly appropriate?”
“I told ye before. Ye’re a long way from England, lass. Lest ye forget, ye’re in the Highlands now. We do things differently here.”
She lifted a brow. “How could I forget?”
“Ruairi said ye’ll be staying with us for a few weeks. More to the point, I already call Ruairi’s wife Ravenna.” He turned up his smile a notch. “Ye and I are practically like family. Ye will call me Fagan, and I will call ye Grace, or I could always call ye bhana-phrionnsa. I’ll be kind enough to give ye a choice.”
“Ravenna may permit you to call her by her Christian name, but I certainly do not, Mister Murray. Although you do make me laugh, I’m afraid you and I are far from family.”
* * *
When Grace’s eyes smoldered, Fagan knew he shouldn’t get too close to the flame for fear of getting burned. There was still enough time to take his leave. Otherwise, he’d be verbally sparring with a lass in the middle of the great hall. Ruairi would no doubt have his head for causing mischief with his kin so soon after the wedding.
Fagan slapped both hands on the table and casually stood. Instinctively, he took another step back in case the lass suddenly had a strong urge to reach across the table and throttle him—or worse. Nevertheless, once she heard what he was about to say, the table wouldn’t provide enough space between them.
“Verra well then. I think bhana-phrionnsa suits ye quite nicely.” When Grace’s cheeks turned scarlet, Fagan smiled. “Donna say I didnae warn ye. Remember I did give ye a choice.” He winked at her and then turned on his heel.
“Wait!”
He had a hard time trying to mask his smile. He turned around slowly and lifted a brow. “Aye?”
Grace flew to her feet, walked around the table, and closed the distance between them. She lifted her head, and by the way she was unsteady on her feet, he swore the daft lass was standing on the tips of her toes in a futile attempt to look him level in the eye.
“England and Scotland have been warring for centuries, Mister Murray, yet somehow Scotland has never won.” Lifting her skirts, she brushed his arm with her shoulder and took a few steps away from him.
That was until he called after her and stopped her dead in her tracks. “Cuine a chì mi a-ris thu, Grace?” When will I see you again? He made certain he said the words as though he spoke to his lover, which obviously had the desired effect because her whole body stiffened, and then she left him without a backward glance. Fagan’s mood was suddenly buoyant. He wasn’t exactly sure why he loved to unnerve Princess Grace, but he had one hell of a time doing it.
“What happened with Torquil?”
Fagan turned around and let out a chuckle. “My apologies, I didnae recognize ye without Ravenna strapped to your body, my laird.”
Ruairi folded his arms over his chest. “Arse.”
“Aye. The wee sister seems to have taken a liking to stalking the lad. Donna worry upon it. I talked to Torquil, and Lady Grace will speak with Katherine.”
“Our home has certainly changed, has it nae?”
“Ye should’ve thought about that before ye decided to wed the lass. So many women under one roof will surely put us all in an early grave.”
Ruairi chuckled. “Let me know if ye still see trouble brewing between Torquil and Katherine. Mayhap my lovely wife and I will have to have a chat with them. I cannae have a bloody war within my walls between my own kin.”
Fagan followed Ruairi out into the bailey where the first round of Walsinghams was ready to depart. Lord Casterbrook, the unlucky betrothed of Princess Grace, and Lord Mildmay, Ravenna’s uncle, would soon be nothing but a distant memory. Fagan had to admit that he was much fonder of the latter. There was something about the poor bastard who captured Grace’s heart that Fagan didn’t like.
He couldn’t place his finger on anything in particular, but Casterbrook was odd. Then again, look who the man was marrying. Fagan didn’t think a priest could handle Lady Grace’s obstinate behavior any better. But what man in his right mind would agree to take on such a burden? That was truly a mystery, one Fagan had no interest in solving.
Noticing Elizabeth standing by herself against the wall, Fagan approached her. “Lady Elizabeth, how do ye fare?”
“Oh, I’m quite well. Thank you, Mister Murray.”
“Ye donna have to stand on such propriety. Ravenna calls me Fagan. I would be honored if ye would call me the same.” When she gazed around the bailey and a look of sadness passed over her face, he added, “Donna worry. Ye’ll be able to visit your uncle, and I’m sure he will come to visit ye.”
“Does Laird Munro ready his mount as well? I don’t see him.”
Fagan lifted a brow. “Ian? Aye. It will nae be long before all are out from underfoot.”
“And does Laird Munro come here often? I heard Laird Sutherland say that he doesn’t live that far from the Sutherland border.”
“First of all, Ruairi would be cross with ye if he heard ye call him Laird Sutherland now. Ye are part of this clan. He is Ruairi. I am Fagan. Understand?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Yes.”
“I know Munro may frighten ye with his fierce looks, but donna fash yourself over him. He will nae bother ye. Besides, ye are under Ruairi’s protection. Ye have my word that nay harm will come to ye here. Ye are safe, Elizabeth.”
The lass spoke in a rush of words, shaking her hands in a nervous gesture before her. “Oh, you misunderstand. Laird Munro doesn’t frighten me at all. I was only wondering when he’d return.”
Something in Fagan’s gut cautioned him not to ask. Granted, he wasn’t adept at reading the lasses, but he wondered what this was all about. Another disturbing thought came to mind. Surely the young lady wasn’t pining after Munro. The idea was simply absurd.
Dear God.
Something clicked in his mind. Not only had wee Katherine taken a liking to Torquil, but now Elizabeth had her sights set on the neighboring laird. He’d definitely have to warn Ian to run hard and fast. When the Sutherland lands were invaded by an army of English lasses, Fagan had known the women would hold no prisoners in their wake, and his instincts were usually right.
“Pray excuse me, Fagan.”
Elizabeth walked over to the waiting carriages. As all four Walsingham sisters stood in the bailey, Fagan leisurely made his way to Ruairi’s side. He knew that he should lend moral support to his friend, but he walked slowly enough to make sure the man suffered just a little. From the looks of things, Ruairi was drowning in a pool of English—something he deserved for bringing such chaos into the clan.
“Uncle Walter, Ruairi and I can’t thank you enough for coming to our wedding.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it. Your mother and father would’ve been proud, and you don’t need to thank me, Ravenna. I’d do anything for you girls. You know that.”
Grace entwined her arm with Ravenna’s. “I hope you mean that, Uncle Walter, because when I return to England, you and I are going to have a little chat.” Grace’s eyes narrowed and something unspoken passed between them.
Lord Mildmay turned his head to the side, clearing his throat, while Fagan wondered what the wily minx was up to now. He couldn’t wait until she returned to England because that would be one less problem he’d have to deal with.
Lord Casterbrook stepped forward and lifted Grace’s hand, brushing a brief kiss across her knuckles. “My dearest lady, England will not be the same without your presence. I will count the days until your safe return.”
With all Fagan’s might, he tried not to roll his eyes. He truly did. But when a little smirk escaped him, Ruairi elbowed him in the gut.
“I’ll send my own private carriage for you when you are ready to return, and my men will escort you safely home.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Ravenna interrupted.
Lord Casterbrook lifted a brow. “Oh…and why is that, Lady Sutherland?”
“The captain of my husband’s guard will be escorting Grace home.”
Three
The dust had barely settled as the carriages departed through the gates, but Grace couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. Fagan had stiffened as though Ravenna had struck him, and his mouth was clenched tighter now, if that was even possible.
“Why? Why would you refuse to let Daniel send someone to escort me home? Ravenna, the last thing I want to do is travel home with…your husband’s captain.” Grace was resentful that Ravenna hadn’t consulted her first before volunteering Fagan’s services. Not only could Grace see the man’s discontent, but she could feel him seething with mounting rage. She’d made every effort to mask the look of disgust that she knew had crossed her face, but she wasn’t sure if she’d succeeded. She was so angry with her sister that she really didn’t care.
Ruairi placed his hand on Ravenna’s shoulder. “Ye were supposed to let me talk with Fagan first.”
“My apologies, but I thought you already had.”
For several long moments, Ruairi stood huddled with Fagan as they spoke in Gaelic. When the conversation didn’t appear to be ending any time soon, Grace’s temper flared. How rude! The men knew she and Ravenna didn’t speak a word of their savage tongue. By the tone in Fagan’s voice, any fool knew that he didn’t want to escort her, but when Grace heard “bhana-phrionnsa” fall from his lips for the hundredth time, she’d had enough.
“Laird Sutherland,” she interrupted vehemently. “I can assure you this princess will be just fine escorted home by her betrothed’s men.” She looked at Fagan, and her eyes clawed him like talons. When he glowered at her in return, she turned and smiled at Ruairi. “Thank you for your kindness, but there truly is no need—”
“Och, lass, while ye stay in the Highlands, ye are my responsibility. Fagan will escort ye home, and ye have nay voice in the matter.”
Ravenna placed her hand on Ruairi’s arm. “I know you mean well, but what about—”
“Ye know better than that, Wife. Everyone under my roof is my responsibility. I have a duty to protect them. I will not leave your sister’s safety to chance. Lady Grace will be escorted home by my captain and his men. Now there is naught else to be said on the matter.”
Ravenna may have been silenced by her husband’s dark expression, but Grace refused to let any man, especially a Highlander, decide what was best for her. She was about to speak when Fagan shot Ruairi a withering glance and something unspoken passed between them.
This time when Fagan spoke to Grace, the tone in his voice was rather pleasant. In fact, the man even smiled, and when he did, Grace found his grin to be irresistible. Perhaps Ruairi had given his captain a good scolding, because it was about time someone brought that wild dog to heel.
In a desperate attempt to try to dismiss the strange aching in her limbs, Grace depicted an ease she didn’t necessarily feel. At least that was her intent until Fagan stepped forward and she found herself taking a quick, sharp breath. He lifted her hand, and when their eyes met, she felt a shock run through her.
“My dearest lady, Scotland will nae be the same without your presence. It would be my pleasure to escort ye back to England.” A devilish look came into his eyes. “I will count the days until your safe return.”
What. An. Idiot.
God, how she wanted to say those words aloud. When Ruairi tried to cover Fagan’s words with a cough, Grace realized she never should’ve assumed anything about Fagan Murray. As he stood there with his sparkling emerald eyes, so arrogant, mocking Daniel’s words, she wanted nothing more than to wipe that bloody smirk off his face.
She closed what little distance was left between them and whispered, “Eyes are not the only thing I know how to blacken, Mister Murray.” When he swallowed hard, Grace knew she’d won this particular battle.
“Grace!”
Ignoring Ravenna’s reprimand, Grace pulled her hand from Fagan’s grasp, lifted her skirts, and left them all standing in the bailey with their mouths agape.
* * *
“Please let me apologize on behalf of my sister. Sometimes Grace’s behavior is rather—”
“Och, Ravenna, ’twas naught that wasnae deserved. I only wish my laird had spoken to me first about this quest.” Fagan’s angry gaze swung to Ruairi, and Ravenna placed her hand on Fagan’s arm.
“I will take responsibility for that. With all the excitement of the wedding, I thought Ruairi had spoken to you. I know that was his intention all along.”
“Aye, but I had hoped to get a few drinks in him before I told him,” said Ruairi in a scolding tone. He gave Fagan a brief nod. “Ye know Ravenna’s sister is under my protection. If Casterbrook—”
Fagan held up his hand. “Ye donna need to say anything more. I wouldnae leave the task to Casterbrook’s men either.”
“Truly?” Ravenna rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Daniel is a good man. He’s good for Grace. Just because he’s English does not mean—”
“It doesnae matter if he’s English, Scottish, or French. In truth, I donna care what he is. Your sister is my responsibility, and until she’s safely back in England where she belongs, I only trust my own men with her escort.”
Ravenna tapped Fagan playfully on the shoulder, and then her eyes lit up as though she held a secret. “Then let me be the first to offer you a word of advice if I may. If you’re going to be traveling with my sister the entire way from Scotland to England, learn to keep your mouth shut.”
�
�More than likely wise words from the woman who knows her best. I’d heed my wife’s warning if I were ye.”
“Donna worry about me. I can handle Lady Grace just fine.”
“Mmm… If you think that, you don’t know my sister as well as you think you do. Pray excuse me.” Ravenna took a few steps away from the men and then turned around. “And Fagan? I wouldn’t get too close to her if I were you.”
Not even aware of his actions, Fagan lifted his hand and rubbed his eye. He had to admit that being punched in the face by a woman was not a common occurrence.
“There, there,” said Ruairi in a singsong voice. “At least your eye is nay longer black and blue.”
“Arse.”
“Aye. Thank ye for nae removing my head in front of Ravenna. I did want to talk to ye beforehand.”
Fagan shrugged. “I’m nae thrilled to be in Lady Grace’s company for that long, but ye did what was expected of ye. And I’ll do what’s expected of me. I’ll see her back to England into the waiting arms of her betrothed. Howbeit ye’ll owe me one hell of a favor, my laird.”
“Duly noted. Now that everyone has departed, ’tis about time we get everything back to the way it should be around here—quiet. I think we could all use the peace.”
“Peace? With four lasses under roof? Ye’re truly praying for a miracle then.”
“Do ye think ’tis too much to ask?”
“What I think is that the only safe haven right now is behind the closed doors of your study with a pitcher of ale in hand.”
Ruairi slapped Fagan on the shoulder in a brotherly gesture. “Then let us have a drink, shall we?”
“Ye donna need to ask me twice.”
The men made their way to Ruairi’s study, but as soon as Fagan closed the door, they hesitated. A steady thumping noise was coming from across the room. Ruairi followed the sound, and when he slowly pulled out his chair, a black mass of fur dashed out from under the desk.
“Angus, what the hell are ye doing in here?”
Two massive paws jumped up onto Ruairi’s chest, and Torquil crawled out from under the desk.
Kilts and Daggers Page 3