“Why?” he asked, sounding disappointed.
“It will jeopardize our mission,” she said. “Gossip is the mainstay of most clans and villages. It is how news is carried, things learned. It wouldn’t be long before news spreads about the mighty Highlander and his woman who wears lad’s clothing.”
“Others have learned of your gender.”
“They understood why we maintained the ruse and are not likely to betray us.”
Bryce shook his head slowly and reached out to stroke her cheek. “I hate to admit you are right, but you are. We need to continue this ruse. It would be unwise to do otherwise. But—” He took hold of her chin. “Promise me you will not do anything foolish.”
“I never do,” she said with a grin. “It is the fools I must contend with that cause the problems.”
Bryce’s hands gripped her shoulders. “Listen well to me, woman. I’ll not see you place yourself in danger.”
“Then close your eyes, for if it is necessary for me to do so to save my da, then I will.”
He shook her. “You are impossible.”
“I thought I was stubborn.”
“And quarrelsome,” he added.
“And you’re”—she stopped, and her voice softened—“a good man for putting up with a troublesome lad.”
He shook his head again and kept shaking it, and only stopped when his lips claimed hers.
Without thought or hesitation, Charlotte’s arms went around his neck. She wanted this kiss, ached for it since last he kissed her. And she intended to savor every moment.
His lips were strong against hers, taking command, leading, and she followed willingly. How his kiss could do so much she didn’t know, but it did. It not only sparked her passion but made her feel safe and protected. Nothing could happen to her when she was in his arms, nothing.
She wasn’t aware of when he had slipped his arm around her waist and hoisted her up against him. She was too hungry for his kiss to realize anything. And he was too, for he fed the kiss until she thought she would burst from its fullness.
And still it was with reluctance that they both brought the kiss to an end.
“You will do nothing foolish, or I will throttle you,” Bryce said, having rested his brow to hers.
“I would rather you kiss me,” she said.
“You like my kisses, do you?” he asked teasingly.
She gave a faint laugh. “I more than like your kisses, and I favor your touches.”
He drew his head back, and she almost recoiled, his blue eyes raged with such heated passion.
“Be careful what you say, for I have a thirst for you that needs quenching.” He put her down, turned, and walked away.
She followed, though she kept several steps behind. He wasn’t the only one with a thirst to quench.
The closer they got to Clan Comyn, the more Bryce’s worry grew. The Clan Comyn were good people, but their warriors a boisterous bunch. They were fierce warriors and favored their mead, their games, and their women. And his reason for seeking them out was to see that they would support the true king.
It was no secret that the clan didn’t favor King Kenneth though it did nothing to incite him. So it wasn’t quite known who Clan Comyn would fight alongside when the time came, and Bryce was there to convince them to choose the true king.
The problem was that he hadn’t expected to have to worry about having a wee bit of a lassie along dressed like a lad and who he found himself much too attracted to. He warned himself not to get close, not to kiss her, but that was like asking him not to breathe. And the thought that she had become so damn irresistible to him frustrated him.
Now he would worry even more about her, especially while at the Clan Comyn. He cringed when he thought of what she would be subjected to, the vivid tales of battle and conquests of women. He cringed again.
Charlotte should not be hearing such sordid things, but how did he stop it. She was right about the consequences of gossip concerning a woman garbed as a lad. It would definitely prove dangerous for her, more so than entering the Clan Comyn disguised as a lad.
He stopped and turned to Charlotte. “You’ll not remain at my side when we arrive. I’ll not see you forced to partake in whatever debauchery they subscribe to.”
Damn, but he hated that she would be on her own again.
How did he protect if she didn’t remain beside him?
His sudden realization came with a smile. “I trust that you can take care of yourself. I know that you are no fool, though I sometimes say otherwise. You are skilled with a bow and agile enough and have extracted yourself from difficult situations before.”
Though he knew all that, it didn’t make it any easier for him to admit it. His thought was to protect her, though, truthfully, his fear was losing her. He didn’t know if he could live with himself if something should happen to her, and he hadn’t been there to save her. And the thought of not having her around, never kissing her, never getting to make love to her—ripped at his gut and tormented his heart.
He didn’t want to admit how much he cared for Charlotte, but it was getting more difficult by the day not to.
Let no woman have your heart until you are ready to give it.
His own words came back to haunt him. He wondered if he had been the fool to think that he would decide when to give his heart, when truthfully it was snatched from him without his even realizing it.
He finished his instructions with an adamant, “You will be cautious.”
“I will, and, besides, I have Odin,” she reminded. “What about you? What will you do when given a woman for the night?”
He heard the sharp sting of jealousy in her voice and was pleased to hear it. “We’ll take our leave before nightfall.”
She shook her head. “Not likely. From what you have told me of the Clan Comyn, they would be insulted if we don’t stay the night and enjoy their generous hospitality.”
He refused to admit she was right again. He had spoken from his own misgivings, knowing it would take a few hours of talk and festivity before he could even broach the subject of allegiance to the true king.
“We’ll do what must be done for the sake of our missions,” she said, with a shrug of resignation, and walked away.
Bryce caught up with her in two easy strides, and they continued on in silence.
He didn’t know what would happen tonight though he did know one thing. There was only one woman he intended to take to his bed and that was—Charlotte.
Chapter 18
Badenoch was a beautiful area of the Highlands, mountainous land with forests of alder, a favorite tree of her da’s. He used it to fashion bowls and spoons for them, and he’d take a young green branch, cut the ends, push out the pith, and make a whistle for her. It wasn’t just any whistle, he’d tell her, it was magical; and it was, for he had made it for her.
She grew melancholy with the memories though she feared one memory in particular, one that might prove dangerous for her. She considered confiding it to Bryce, but once he heard, he’d no doubt forbid her from going any farther.
The incident had happened almost two years ago, when her da and she were in the area, though not for long. Bryce knew the Clan Comyn well, for they were a boisterous bunch, especially when full of drink.
Two men from the clan, having partaken of too much ale, had come upon her da in the woods gathering alder branches. It wasn’t long before they were tormenting him, and it wasn’t long or difficult for her to make fools of them, besting them both.
Her hair was long, then, and she wore a skirt and tunic, and they had been far into their cups, so she didn’t think they would recognize her if they should spot her today. She, however, would know them. She never forgot a face that had meant her or her father harm, especially for the fun of it.
She would be extravigilant and spend most of her time with the young lads who tended the warriors’ horses. They proved a useful source, seeing much and hearing even more. They enjoyed boasting abo
ut the warriors’ exploits, intending to follow in their stead.
“Make sure to keep your face marred with dirt; elsewise, your beauty will shine through,” Bryce said.
Charlotte almost tripped over her own feet; his words stunned her so much. He thought she was beautiful? Was he blind? Or could he truly mean it?
“And don’t keep your eyes on another’s too long, or he will soon be captivated by their potent dark color.”
He made it sound as though the color of her eyes could stir passion.
He stopped abruptly, leaned over, scooped up some dirt, and rifled it through her hair. “I’ve never seen a blend of colors in hair like yours before, brown, gold, and honey.” He shook his head. “It’s as if the colors vied for dominance, and none won.”
She was glad he expected no response, for she was at a loss for words. She was amazed that he had taken note of her hair color. It was rather odd, many having pointed out the obvious. Some even suggested that it was the devil’s doing.
“Let’s get this done with,” Bryce said abruptly. “I want to leave with first light tomorrow, so make certain I know where to find you.”
“Perhaps you will be too comfortable to take an early leave,” she suggested, annoyance nagging at her over an almost certain possibility that he would have a woman sharing his bed this night.
“I’ll be up before the sun; make certain you are too.”
She followed behind his determined strides, grumbling quietly. She wanted him to assure her that he would couple with no woman tonight. She had been foolish to have alluded to it. He would do what must be done, as was only sensible.
Reason always prevails.
Not this time, Da, not this time, she thought.
It wasn’t long before they spied the village of the Clan Comyn, and Bryce once again reminded her to be cautious and take no chances. She adhered to his words as soon as the chieftain and his two sons greeted him with wrestling handshakes, and she recognized the sons as the two who she had confronted and bested for tormenting her da in the woods that day.
Charlotte slipped away, not wanting to be taken note of, but she wasn’t quick enough. She heard Toag, the chieftain, yell out for the lad to come join them. She was grateful for Bryce’s response to the man.
“Leave the lad to go join his own kind. We warriors have tales to tell and mead to drink—”
“And women to enjoy,” finished Toag.
The four warriors entered the keep just as the first raindrops began to fall.
Charlotte learned plenty in the three hours she spent with the young lads. They were more than willing to share stories of the Comyn warriors, boasting proudly of their clan’s exploits. It seemed that Toag and his sons, Ewan, the older by two years, and Edgar, had different opinions about the true king. While Toag and Edgar thought it wise to follow the true king, Ewan disagreed. He believed King Kenneth a mighty warrior who would one day best the true king and end the ridiculous myth that seeded the Highlands.
The lads, with no exception, sided with Toag and Edgar, though they never dared voice their opinions. It would mean a thrashing from Ewan for sure. They even cast worried glances around the stable to see if anyone lurked about listening.
“Has anyone seen Albert?” one lad asked.
“If he heard, he’ll tell on us for sure,” said another.
“He’s always getting us in trouble to win Ewan’s favor,” a thin lad with large brown eyes said. “Hope he’s stuck out in the rain somewhere.”
Charlotte didn’t say anything though she thought she had seen someone sneak out a few moments ago. But she didn’t concern herself with it. If the lad Albert had been listening and went off to inform Ewan, he’d probably find the large man too busy and into his cups to be bothered by gossip.
She settled down, eager for sleep, tired from not getting much last night and not wanting to think about what Bryce was doing. Otherwise, she would do something stupid, like go to the keep and spy on his every move.
Odin woke when she went to settle her arm over him. He had fallen asleep beside her over an hour ago. He gave a soft whine, then stretched himself up and trotted out of the stable.
“Don’t be long,” she called after him, but she knew he would roam and take his time while seeing to his duty.
Her eyes drifted shut as soon as she stretched out on the straw and sleep was right behind . . . though not for long.
“Get up the lot of you!” the voice yelled.
She didn’t need to look to see who it was. Ewan stood just inside the door, rain dripping down his ruddy face and off his clothes.
“Agate, get your useless ass over here,” he demanded.
The skinny lad with the big eyes hurried to his feet, and Charlotte watched his face turn pure white as he ran over to Ewan.
The lad hadn’t even stopped in front of Ewan when he backhanded him and sent him sprawling.
“You run your mouth with lies?” Ewan screamed. “You’ll not be speaking another lie when I get done with you.”
The lad scurried on his backside up against a wall, his face riddled with fear.
Charlotte reacted as she always did when injustice twisted at her gut. She quickly strove to protect the innocent. And it was easy. All she did was stick out her leg as Ewan rushed at the lad.
He went down hard, slapping the dirt with his full weight, his face bouncing off the hard ground. Loud gasps filled the air, and Agate’s eyes nearly popped from his face, he was so shocked.
Charlotte quickly got to her feet and grabbed her bow, though she readied no arrow.
It took several moments for Ewan to get to his feet. No one dared approach him, not even Albert. He had disappeared into the shadows as soon as the warrior went down. Once Ewan finally made it to his feet, he shook his head and spat hay from his mouth.
If wise, Charlotte would have quaked with fear, the man looking ready to kill her as his face grew molten red with anger. But it mattered not to her. She stood her ground as he advanced on her and when he got close enough, though not too close, she poked him hard in the gut with the tip of her bow.
He went down on his knees, his hands grabbing his gut.
“Keep your distance,” she warned sternly. “Bryce won’t take kindly to your hurting me.”
“I’m going to thrash you, you fool,” he yelled, and struggled again to his feet and ran at her.
Charlotte sidestepped him just as he got close, and as he flew past her, she whacked him in the back of the head with her bow.
He stumbled, righted himself quickly, and turned with a fury. “I’m going to make you suffer.”
Charlotte shrugged. “It isn’t me who is suffering.”
He growled like a crazed animal and came at her again.
With a quick vault to one bale of hay, then another, she avoided the man, who again wound up flat on his face in his attempt to grab her.
When Ewan got up this time, he did the unexpected, and Charlotte silently cursed herself for not having considered such a tactic. He grabbed Agate and slammed him back against his chest, wrapping his arm around the lad’s slim neck.
He could easily kill the lad with one twist.
“Put that damn bow down and come over to me, or I will make him suffer in your stead.”
Charlotte didn’t have to think about it. She laid her bow down by her belongings and walked right over to him. “Touch me, and Bryce will see that you pay for it.”
Ewan laughed when he tossed Agate aside. “You think a MacAlpin warrior frightens me. I’ll teach you a good lesson whether he likes it or not.
Charlotte knew what was coming and she ducked, which angered Ewan even more, and the next furious blow he sent didn’t miss. It sent Charlotte flying.
Her head was foggy, her eyes blurred, making it difficult to get to her feet quickly and avoid another blow. He was on her again, and she wasn’t fool enough to think that she could survive his angry trouncing.
She wished Odin would return, then wished he would
n’t. There was no telling what Ewan would do to the animal while in such a rage.
Bryce. She needed to get to him. He would protect her.
She already felt blood dripping from her nose, or was it her mouth, she wasn’t sure. And when he grabbed her by the throat and tossed her, the crack to the back of her head reverberated through the whole of her after hitting the wall.
Stunned again, she failed to move with agility, and her life depended on her getting to Bryce. When Ewan reached down for her once again, she did the only thing left to her; she grabbed him between the legs and squeezed hard.
He couldn’t even scream. All he could do was suck in air and fall to his knees. It gave her enough time to get up and run. Pain struck her, but she ignored it and kept running. Rain pelted her as she slipped and slid in muddy puddles, but she kept running. And when she heard Ewan let loose with a battle cry, she ran harder.
She burst into the keep with the large man right behind her.
Charlotte heard Odin then, growling and snarling, and she turned just as Ewan punched the animal in the head and sent him flying into the wall.
She didn’t think of the consequences of her actions, and just as she launched herself at Ewan, she caught Bryce’s eye across the hall and let out a heart-wrenching scream.
She didn’t realize it was his name she had screamed.
Her stomach churned with anger as she latched onto the sizeable man and continuously pummeled him with her small fists, sharp, rapid, never-ending jabs that tormented and confused.
Charlotte was suddenly grabbed around the waist and flung off the man, her fists still flying.
“See to Odin!” Bryce yelled, yanking her off the man.
Relief flooded her when she heard his voice, felt his touch, and she stumbled over to the stunned animal, bravely fighting to get to his feet. She soothed him with soft reassuring words and kisses and urged him to stay where he was.
When finally he appeared stable, she turned to see Bryce standing over Ewan, his hand still fisted as he glared down at the large man lying motionless on the floor.
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