Highlander The Dark Dragon

by Donna Fletcher

  “Will you teach me the skill?”

  Rhys stopped. “If I did that, I would never hear you approach and already your steps are faint.” He bit his tongue for allowing the words to slip from his lips. He had allowed her beauty to distract him just as he had allowed her words of love to anger him. Too easily, she slipped past his defenses and that had to stop.

  She laughed softly. “I believe my light steps were born out of necessity. I found myself treading lightly when my sisters were mere babes and I had put them to nap or bed and did not want to wake them as I left the room. As they got older, I kept my steps light so I could sneak up on them and catch them doing things they should not have been doing. Other times it was so I could sneak off by myself for a few moments of peace and quiet. Not that it lasted very long. Patience learned how to track young and was forever finding me. Do you have siblings?”

  “No,” he answered and wanted to bite his tongue again. He did not want her knowing anything about him and here he was answering her. He grew more annoyed when he realized that he had gone in search of her to see that she was not upset over their recent encounter when truly it was because he favored her company. She was stirring things to life in him that he had thought long since dead.

  “You do have cousins, your Uncle Ewan’s four sons.”

  “I barely know them.”

  “Then you have been gone from the area a long time. I suppose few would remember you.”

  This time he wanted to rip his tongue from his mouth for letting her deduce something about him from his response. “You ask far too many questions and disobey far too often.”

  She looked at him and soft laughter again preceded her words. “You are getting to know me well.”

  He had to look away from her and suppress the smile that hurried to his mouth. He rarely, if ever, smiled and it shocked him that a smile had come so easily. Unlike others who trembled when he admonished them, she showed no fear, took no offense, and responded more often than not with a smile or gentle laughter that always managed to stir him in more ways than one.

  “So I should expect more disobedience from you?”

  “Not intentionally,” Heather said.

  “Perhaps a fitting punishment for your disobedience so far would have you think twice before disobeying me again.”

  “Perhaps a reprieve since I am doing my best to find my footing and adapt to an unexpected marriage and a new home.”

  “You negotiate with me?”

  “I have done so before.”

  He remembered it well, for she had agreed to come to their bed willingly if he allowed her to tend Douglas instead of attending the burial of the two warriors. He had yet to take advantage of the bargain they had struck, not that he was not most eager to, but in a way he was also reluctant. She was so very innocent and kind, but would she be after he put his mark on her?

  “I will see you wear, at supper tonight, the garment that waits for you in our bedchamber. Only then will I consider a reprieve.”

  “Only consider, not grant me the reprieve?”

  “You are lucky I even consider it.” Rhys turned his head just as Pitt came into view.

  “Pardon, my lord, but possible wolf tracks have been spotted by one of our sentries,” Pitt said.

  Rhys turned to Heather. “Our agreement has been struck. I will see you dressed appropriately tonight.” He reluctantly eased his arm away from her hand and walked over to Pitt, though called out as he did, “And you will also tell me what you found so interesting in the grass by the keep wall.”

  Heather watched the two men walk away. Her husband was much too observant, but then so was she. There was something more to the wolf tracks that had been spotted and she wondered over it. She wished her husband trusted her enough to talk with her on all matters, though given time perhaps he would.

  One problem at a time, first she wanted to prove to herself and others that the Dragon did not keep young lassies locked away in the upper floor room. She hurried back to the spot where she had seen the trampled grass and noticed another spot where the grass had been trampled close to the keep. She worked her way along the area and saw two more similar spots. Was someone else also searching for an entrance to a secret room or had it been found and someone left these spots to misdirect?

  Heather stepped back. Who else could possibly be aware of the secret passage? Had Fane McComb revealed its existence to someone before he passed? Could Rhys possibly know its whereabouts?

  “Excuse me, my lady.”

  Heather turned to see Bea standing a few feet away from her. “Douglas?” she asked anxiously.

  “It is probably nothing, but his wound appeared different to me when I went to change his bandage a short time ago. I hoped that you might have a moment to look at it.”

  “Of course,” Heather said and went with Bea, leaving the mystery to solve for another time.

  ~~~

  Supper was not far off when Heather returned to the keep. Bea’s worry was for naught; Douglas’s wound was healing nicely. She had taken the time to visit a few other wounded warriors to see how they were faring and was pleased that all except one was doing well.

  Fife had suffered an arm wound that was not serious and looked to be healing well, though pain seemed to plague him enough that he could not hold his sword for long. He worried that he would not be able to continue to serve the Dragon.

  Heather tried to reassure him that with time and rest he would be fine, but he was eager to return to duty and no amount of reassurance could soothe him and no amount of consoling would appease him. She left him brooding over his situation. She wished there was something she could do for him, but some men simply did not listen and she would not be surprised if he returned to his duties before he was sufficiently healed and make matters worse for himself.

  Heather hurried through the Great Hall surprised to see it dressed in such finery, a white linen tablecloth covering the long table on the dais with a silver nef placed in the middle holding several linen napkins. Four pitchers lined the front of the table and four pitchers sat upon each of the trestle tables in the room. It would be a fine feast that would be served this evening.

  With quick steps, Heather climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. She was pleased to see a fresh bucket of water waiting for her and when her eye caught the dress on the bed she hurried over to it. The dress was lovely, soft blue with threads of gold running along the low cut neckline and crisscrossing in the middle and gracing the hem along the sleeves. But what caught her attention more was the sapphire necklace that lay on top of the dress. She had never seen anything like it. The single, large sapphire hung from an intricate silver chain and Heather was afraid to touch it.

  She stared at it, the dark blue gem appearing to wink at her from the way the hearth’s light reflected off it. There was no denying that the necklace was lovely, but she much preferred the simplicity of the metal ring Quinn had made for her. It had been forged with love.

  Gently, she lifted the necklace. It held no warmth, no love. Once placed around the neck, it would feel more like a shackle than anything else. With reluctance, Heather prepared to fulfill her end of the bargain she had made with her husband, not looking forward to the time the sapphire necklace went around her neck.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rhys sat at the dais table with Pitt enjoying the wine as warriors filed in and began filling the many tables. Soon talk, accented with bouts of laughter, circled the room and shouts of joy rang out when platters heaped high with various foods were placed on each table.

  “This small feast will be good for the men,” Pitt said, glancing around the room slowly.

  “And which lassie catches your fancy tonight?” Rhys asked.

  Pitt shook his head. “I forget you see what others do not.”

  “You forget I have grown to know you well. You are rarely without a female companion for the night, though perhaps it is time for you to find a wife.”

  “I am not ready to be shackle
d to one woman.”

  “Well, you certainly have your pick, since most of the servant lasses have difficulty keeping their eyes off you, all except one that is.”

  Pitt’s glance drifted to Nessa, speaking with one of the servants.

  “Pretty as Nessa is, she is not what I favor in a woman. I prefer a lusty, confident woman. Nessa barely looks me in the eye when I speak with her. I have no use for shy women.” Pitt turned a grin on him. “But if I remember correctly either do you.”

  Rhys cast a glance over his men, having noticed that all sound had ceased and Pitt joined him in looking to see why. His wife had entered the room, turning the men speechless.

  Pitt’s mouth dropped open at the sight of her and when he realized it hung open like a gaping hole, he quickly snapped it shut.

  Rhys drank in every inch of his wife. She approached the table with a gentle grace and a beauty that could not be denied. Her long blonde hair was swept up with several strands falling down the back of her neck and a few wisps around her face. The soft blue dress she wore dipped low on her chest and that was where Rhys’ eyes stopped. He stood and walked to the front of the dais to meet her.

  “Thank you for the generous gifts, my lord,” Heather said when she came to a stop in front of him.

  Talk and laughter resumed as Rhys gave her a brief nod and offered his arm to her, then escorted her back up on the dais to sit between him and Pitt.

  “Your beauty outshines the sapphire, my lady,” Pitt said.

  Heather smiled. “How gallant of you to say, Pitt.” She turned to her husband. “I was rather astonished to see it laying there upon the dress. It is far too generous of you, my lord.”

  Heather was not sure if his eyes were enthralled with the sapphire or her full breasts, since the gem rested just above the valley between her breasts.

  Rhys turned away to pour her a goblet of wine. “I wished for you to have proper garments befitting my wife.”

  “The dress is most proper, but the necklace is not necessary,” she said, accepting the goblet from him. “It belongs more on one of nobility than on me.”

  “Not if I deem otherwise,” Rhys said.

  “Wherever did you come by such a lovely garment and such a stunning jewel?” she asked.

  “In my travels,” he said. “Come now you must eat and enjoy the evening.”

  It was a more pleasant evening than Heather had imagined. Pitt was quite the storyteller, though she wondered if some of his tales were more truths. Many of the warriors raised repeated toasts to the lord and his lady and a few warriors broke into song.

  Later in the evening, Rhys ordered her to remain at the dais while he spoke with Pitt privately for a few moments. He told her they would retire when he returned and her stomach fluttered. She knew this time would come and she could not help but grow more nervous as she watched him leave the room.

  Rhys turned an angry voice on Pitt as soon as the door to his solar closed. “That bastard gained access to the castle, his message clear. He lets me know he is here and that he plans to take what I took from him. He gave that sapphire necklace to his wife the day they wed. I want you to find out how he gained access to the keep.”

  “There are sentries everywhere. He could not have gotten passed them.”

  Rhys shook his head as if suddenly realizing something. “He did not get passed them. He had someone else leave the message.”

  “He would have been seen and stopped,” Pitt argued.

  “Not if he was one of us.”

  “A spy among us?” Pitt said, questioning his own words.

  “A spy,” Rhys confirmed, “but more importantly, how long has he resided among us?”

  “I cannot believe this. Each warrior seems so loyal to you. Who would be so foolish to think he would not be discovered and suffer for it?”

  “The man is no fool. He has been taught to be a loyal servant to his master beyond anything else, even death.”

  “I do not understand how someone can follow so blindly,” Pitt said.

  “Only those who are blind follow blindly.”

  “It would explain how the death of our two warriors could happen under our very noses. They would have trusted one of their own. The problem now is...who can be trusted?”

  “Some of our seasoned warriors who came to us after losing their land and their families would be the most loyal. It would be one of the ones who sought us out, whose backgrounds we know little of who would be more likely the culprit. What we need to find out is if any warrior has been seen in the keep beyond the Great Hall. He would have had to know how to get to my bedchamber.”

  “Nessa would be the one who could tell us that.”

  Rhys rested his hand on Pitt’s shoulder. “That she could, which is why you are going to show her some favor and work your charm on her so that she does not shy away from talking with you.”

  “Why is that necessary? I can just question her and be done with it.”

  “And not get the answers we seek. If she feels she can trust you, she will be more forthcoming with all that goes on in the keep. Also find out who was on duty at the time of the two warriors’ death. Confide in Henry what goes on, he and his wife can be trusted, and have him help you.”

  “What of Lady Heather? She believes the ghost warriors protect her. Will you confide in her and warn her not to trust any of them until this can be settled?”

  “I do not want her knowing of this yet. I will order her not to go off with anyone but me, you, or Henry.”

  “And she will obey?” Pitt asked with concern.

  “She will have no choice or I will shackle her to me until this is done.”

  ~~~

  Heather sat fingering the sapphire at her chest. She felt foolish wearing it and could not wait to take it off. She had met nobles who did not have such a fine gem and she wondered where in Rhys’ travels he had come upon it.

  “More wine, my lady?” Nessa asked and before Heather could refuse—her goblet still half full—Nessa leaned past her to pour the wine. As she did, she whispered, “Laird McComb believed Seamus his most trustworthy warrior.”

  “More bread, please,” Heather said, giving Nessa an excuse to linger. “The laird could have confided in him.”

  “I thought it might be possible,” Nessa agreed.

  A shout went out and tankards were raised and the two women turned to see Rhys and Pitt enter the Great Hall. Nessa hurried off and Heather watched as Pitt stopped her, his arm going around her waist as he leaned down to say something to her.

  Nessa appeared uncomfortable with his closeness and eased away from him with a nod, then hurried off.

  Rhys took his seat. “A few moments more and we shall retire.”

  Heather nodded, though her attention went to Pitt as he took the seat next to her. “I know Nessa well and she is not free with her favors, so do not force yourself upon her.”

  Pitt looked stunned by her blunt remark, his glance going past Heather to Rhys.

  “You do not tell my men what they can and cannot do,” Rhys said.

  Heather turned to her husband. “Then you order him, for I will not see Nessa suffer such abuse.”

  Rhys placed his face close to his wife’s. “Pitt has never forced a woman, he has no need to. They fall at his feet most willingly. And never ever think to order my men about.”

  “I cannot give my word on that, for there may come a time I have no choice. And I would not be able to adhere to your command. So I cannot in all honesty give you my word when I do not know if I will be able to keep it.”

  Rhys stared at her perplexed. How could he fault her when she was being so honest with him? And with the possibility of a spy being in their midst, there was a good chance she might not be able to keep her word, and he would not want her to.

  “I mean no disrespect, my lord, I only mean to be honest with you,” Heather said and was surprised to see a slight smile tease at the corner of his mouth.

  “Then be honest, wife, and t
ell me what you were looking for when I found you at the wall of the keep today?”

  He had played that hand well and backed her in a corner. Now she had no choice, though she was careful how she answered him. “I was searching for a secret way into the keep.”

  Rhys’ brow went up and Pitt said, “There is a secret entrance?”

  She sat back in her chair so that she could glance more easily from one man to the other. “Gossiping tongues say there is.” She was not about to implicate Nessa.

  “What is it they say?” Pitt asked.

  “It seems that the old laird had a secret passage built in case he or his family ever needed to escape unnoticed.”

  “But no one knows where the secret entrance is or where it leads to?” Rhys asked.

  Heather did not know if the entrance actually led to the upper floor room that had been bolted so she was honest in saying, “I do not believe so.”

  “So you went in search of it?” Rhys asked.

  “How could I not, being as curious as I am?”

  “And what had caught your eye earlier outside near the keep?” Rhys asked.

  “Trampled grass far too close to the keep, though when I went to take another look after speaking with you I saw more spots of trampled grass. So, I wondered if someone else could also be searching for the entrance or if someone was trying to mislead others.”

  Rhys looked to Pitt. “Find out what you can.” He shifted his glance to his wife. “You will search no more.”

  “It would be far better that more than one person searched for it, and I do love solving mysteries,” Heather said, looking at her husband.

  “Some mysteries are better left unsolved.”

  Heather smiled. “Not to the curious mind.”

  Rhys leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Since you are so curious let us retire and see what intimate mysteries we can solve.”

  Heather’s breath caught, but she retained her smile and said, “As you wish, my lord.”

  Rhys pressed his cheek to hers and his whispered words faintly brushed her ear, sending a shiver through her. “My wish is about to come true, for I intend to strip you naked and taste every inch of you.”