The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle)

by Ashley York

  She turned and saw scones with butter and honey. Her stomach growled in anticipation. It had not been her imagination.

  “I am sorry I angered you.” She reached toward his stiff back but dropped her hand without touching him. “I need to look for my brother.”

  He turned toward her, disbelief written across his face. “Did I not tell ye he would be safe? Robbie has befriended him and let him know ye are safe.” He raised his eyebrows again. “Ye were safe?”

  Heat flooded her face. “Aye, m’lord. I was safe.”

  “And comfortable?”

  “Aye, comfortable, too.”

  “Ye snore when ye sleep.”

  She gasped. “What? I most certainly do not.”

  “Aye, ye do, and quite loudly. Didn’t get a wink of sleep myself.”

  Iain could not have done a better job teasing her. “Uh-huh.” She put her hands on her hips. “That was probably yourself keeping you awake.”

  He could easily be the one to help them with their predicament, but how to ask him?

  “Good day to ye, miss.”

  “You are leaving already?”

  “I have my duties. Men to see to. Ye are fine here.” He tipped his head.

  “Good day.” Iseabail watched the door close and felt the emptiness of the room move in around her.

  Iain could not possibly have meant to actually trust no one, could he? He could not know what kind of trouble they would come against. This man was a soldier, after all, and strong. Competent. Surely he was not someone to distrust?

  Either her best hope had just walked out that door or she had dodged a flying dagger.

  Chapter 6

  Sitting at the table in front of the small window, she breathed in the fresh morning air. Honey dripped onto her fingers as she poured it on her biscuit. It tasted heavenly. She sighed. She could almost pretend she was home again. Home with Calum and Iain. She forced herself to swallow the suddenly dry biscuit. Where was Iain now?

  Tears slid down her cheeks. If only she had known he would not show up, she would never have left him. What had happened? As rightful heir to all their uncle had stolen from them, Iain was the biggest threat. Where was he? Iseabail’s heart sank. There was no telling to what lengths their uncle would go to get them back.

  Their naïve little plan to find help had been a total failure. It had succeeded only in separating them. They had made the two day journey to the powerful Campbells without incident, only to find no one there. No shepherd. No Hugh. No one to help them. They later learned of the wedding celebration of the Campbells’s only daughter to the fair-haired MacGregor, but by then she and Calum had continued on their own, because they did not know what else to do. They had to keep moving. And when they had finally made it to the village, they had discovered the lie.

  They had overhead some villagers speaking of the MacNaughton and referring to his children as murdering thieves. They spoke with pity about the new laird of the castle, an English man the three children had tried to kill in his sleep.

  “Not that I have any love in me heart for an Englishmen. I always say, England is a great place but for the fact of all those Englishmen!”

  “The devil take ’em all, but a man should nay fear for his life when he lays his head down at night. Cut the throat of the guard, they did. Clear through, I heard.”

  “Damn me. The strengths of them that’s crazy. Raving lunatics. That was the guard that protected the uncle’s bedchamber?”

  “Aye. Saved the uncle, he did.”

  That guard was Roland. A loyal protector of the three children, he had defended them from their uncle, who had been outraged by Roland’s audacity when he had tried to impress upon him their father’s wishes. But Roland knew better than any, having been present at the signing of the will. He knew their uncle had no business moving in or taking over their lands.

  Iseabail and Calum had hidden in the back hall, watching, when Roland approached their uncle.

  “M’lord, I do not believe their father meant for them to be so cut off from everyone else.”

  “They have each other. They have me. What else would they need, man?” Henry’s voice had sounded syrupy sweet, but his hands had doubled into fists at his sides.

  Fear for her friend had settled like a stone in her gut.

  “M’lord, Iseabail is just of an age where she should be with her peers and perhaps even considering a husband. It was her father’s wish that—”

  “Blast it, man. Her father is dead,” Henry roared at the guard as he whirled around to face him, throwing his cup at him in his exasperation. “I do not wish to hear another word. Do you hear me?” Roland lowered his eyes and nodded his compliance. “Good. Now get the hell out of here and do not return until I ask for you.”

  Their uncle had banished him from the castle. And now they were being blamed for his murder.

  Iseabail and Calum had run for their lives, but every village they came to was a potential trap—they would not know if the lie had already been spread.

  The slight scratching sound on the door startled Iseabail from her disturbing memories.

  “Iseabail? Are you within?” Calum’s whispered voice sounded quite loud.

  She jerked the door open to let him in.

  He hugged her as if they’d been separated forever. “I am so glad you are safe. I had to see for myself.” She pushed a wayward lock of his red hair back as he gazed up at her. “You are fine?”

  “I am,” Iseabail said.

  “I cannot lose you, too.”

  She tipped her head back so Calum would not see the tears swelling in her eyes. “You will not.” She hoped she sounded convincing.

  “Come on.” A loud whisper came from down the hall. Iseabail leaned out to see the young boy who’d gotten clobbered the night before. “Oh, good day, mum.”

  Calum grinned at her. “My new friend.”

  “Where is he taking you?”

  “He said there are pups in the barn. Their eyes are not even open yet!” Calum’s eyes were bright with mischief. He looked like every other boy his age. He did not look like a hunted boy with a price on his head. “Can I go see them?”

  She wanted to say no. She wanted him to stay right by her side so she would know he was safe. “Of course. Just avoid being seen.”

  He burst into a smile. “I will.” After a quick hug, he ran off down the hall.

  Iseabail closed the door and sighed. Calum should be allowed to play like every other boy his age. This was good for him. She had to give him time.

  Sitting back at the little table, Iseabail found the biscuits tasted good again. She had not realized how hungry she was until she had finished every last scone and sat licking the honey from her fingertips. Her appetite satisfied, Iseabail took a look around the room and saw the huge tub. The water was tepid, but how wonderful it would be to be able to sit in the tub before the still-roaring fire. How wonderful to be clean! She did not know when she might get a chance like this again.

  She moved closer to the tub and, almost of their own will, her hands were pulling and tugging until she stood as naked as the day she was born, and her toe was pushing its way to the bottom of the deep tub.

  Mmm. It felt good to be submerged. She rested her head against the tub and closed her eyes. The glow from the fire and the popping sounds the wood made mesmerized her. She picked up the soap from the washstand then bobbed under the water to soak her hair. She came out of the water with a laugh and worked the soap into her long, auburn locks. True, it was not the same having to bathe oneself without assistance, but it could be done. With her hair in a full lather, she ducked beneath the water again.

  Too late, she realized she had no way to dry herself. Still, it was so wonderful to be clean, and to have slept in a bed last night, that her happiness could not be diminished by such trivial things. Standing in the tub, she sloshed the extra water off her slim body as best she could with her hands and stepped out to stand in front of the fire.

 
; Never in her life would she have imagined herself, Lady Iseabail MacNaughton, stark naked in front of a roaring, or almost roaring, fire to dry herself. She giggled then pulled the stool closer to the fire and sat on it as she worked her fingers through her tangled hair.

  The sudden breeze behind her was the only warning that she was no longer alone. She turned toward the door and froze at the sight of Seumas’s appreciative gaze looking her up and down.

  How would she protect herself now?

  Chapter 7

  Seumas stopped in the doorway, mesmerized by the vision before him. A spry fairy seemed to have perched on his stool, beguilingly naked and surrounded by a golden hue. He caught his breath when she sat up straighter, making it quite clear this was no fairy, but a human form. A very womanly human form.

  Iseabail’s body beckoned to him, from her full breasts to her narrow waist. A siren’s call could not have been louder. He felt its draw but stopped mid-step. What would he be able to do?

  When she turned toward him, he was struck again by her beauty. Her thick, auburn hair cascaded in damp tresses down her back, her skin was soft and creamy, and her large eyes sparkled in the fireli—

  Those enticing eyes widened with shock. She wrapped herself in her arms and cowered in shame, hiding her nakedness. He quickly turned away.

  He kept his back to her, willing his heart to slow its pace. “I assume ye could not find any other way to dry after yer soak?” His voice sounded unnaturally loud, but he could not seem to lower it. “If ye look by the washstand, ye shall see a cloth I left.”

  In the silence, he heard her move to grab the towel. In his mind’s eye, he saw her as she reached to pick up the towel and rub it against her slight body and thrusting… Seumas coughed at the ridiculousness of the situation and the waste of time and energy he was expending on his imagination—heretofore an imagination as broken as the rest of him.

  She was beautiful, mesmerizingly beautiful. But he had seen many beautiful women. Even taken a few to his bed, and there had been no complaints—he had once known how to please them. No longer. He was impotent, and by sheer will, he had closed down that part of his mind. So why was he so attuned to her? His heart raced and his pulse quickened with each sound she made.

  “If ye would please let me know when ye are decently covered, lass. I have only returned for my sack. I did not wish to disturb ye.”

  Her every move seemed to demand his attention. He had even known the moment she had awakened. He had also known her fear as she lay on his bed, which had caused him to be gruff with her.

  This…this was not helping. He needed to get out of here and away from this woman. She did strange things to his peace of mind.

  *****

  Iseabail’s eyes teared and her face was hot with embarrassment. How stupid could she have been to believe she could pretend all was well and enjoy a leisurely bath? It would be a long time before that happened again. And yet, did she not prove her naiveté with every choice she made? No, she had not been wrong to see good in this man. He had protected her and nothing else, just as he had said.

  As she struggled to pull the chemise over her still-wet hair, mortification filled her to hear him say he did not wish to disturb her. He did disturb her with the heat of his presence and the intensity in his gaze. She shook her head. This was silly.

  What must he think of this little beggar using his tub? Such liberties were unheard of and his response to her had been only kindness. She glanced over to see his back still to her. In that brief glance, she could not help noting his firm muscles, nicely displayed in the britches he wore, and the tension in his body.

  Iseabail fumbled with her clothes.

  “Do ye need assistance, lass?”

  She pulled and pushed to work her skirts down over her wet body, but her fingers seemed to fight her intent.

  “Are ye still there?” His growing impatience with her as she tried to tie her lacings was apparent, slowing her further. “Do ye hear me at all?”

  Iseabail jumped at his angry tone and turned, only to find his patience apparently spent as he, too, turned to face her. Her heart pounded through her chest, and she wondered why he took a deep, shaky breath before speaking.

  “I see ye have dressed without assistance.” His eyebrows rose in apparent irritation. “I must say, I have never met a lass as rude as ye. Unless ye have been raised in the wild, which the softness of yer skin belies, ye had best learn quickly to respond to yer betters.” Arms akimbo, he stared pointedly at her. “I am waiting.”

  “Your forgiveness, m-m’lord,” she stammered. “I wished only to cover myself, not to disregard you.”

  His face softened then, and a small smile played on his lips. “Lass, tell me where ye are from. I feel yer protection has fallen on me, and I am not of a mind to see ye abused.”

  She clenched her jaw. What should she say? What could she honestly tell him to ensure he would help her and not turn her in? The price her uncle had put on her head alone was enough for this man to buy himself a nice piece of land. Could he be chivalrous enough to pass on an opportunity to change his life? Nay, she could not accept his offer.

  “I am waiting yet again, Iseabail.” Seumas’s quick strides had them nearly nose-to-nose. “Answer me now or I will take ye over my knee myself.”

  Iseabail stiffened, her hands on her hips. “You forget yourself, sir. I am no child.”

  Her condescending words hung in the air between them, beyond recall. Too late, she realized her mistake.

  *****

  Could this woman be of noble birth?

  It would explain her lack of the proper subservience. He took a step back and considered her more closely. Now that she was no longer caked in grime, her breeding was apparent, from her pert little upturned nose to the softness of her skin. He’d been right to be suspicious. She and her brother were of noble blood.

  Inhaling deeply, he bowed formally, if a little overdramatically. “Now I must seek yer forgiveness, m’lady. I do not believe we have been properly introduced.” He straightened. “If ye would be so kind as to tell me yer true name?”

  Iseabail had the grace to blush at being caught in her lie. “I travel incognito for the safety of my brother and myself.”

  She hesitated, clearly still struggling with what story to tell him. He had done all he could to show she could trust him and it did not make a bit of difference. “I am Iseabail of the MacNaughton clan. I pray you will keep my identity a secret for my safety, sire.”

  “And what are ye in danger from, besides yer own ignorance?” Satisfaction was sweet when he knew he’d hit his mark. Her pursed lips and flaring nostrils confirmed it.

  She took a deep breath, though indignation fairly poured out of her. “I believe I am doing the best I can with my circumstances and do not appreciate you implying that I am ignorant.”

  She is quite a spitfire. Her dark eyes, and the storm within them, spoke volumes. Every inch the entitled noblewoman. A noblewoman I would dearly like to master. He shook his head to rid himself of the picture she’d conjured in his mind.

  “M’lady, I imply nothing.”

  She inclined her head in gracious acceptance of his apology.

  “Ye are ignorant.”

  There was a slight delay before she realized what he had said then Seumas witnessed a total transformation—the Lady MacNaughton fully displayed. No longer did he see the waif huddling beside the fire trying to avoid notice. No longer did he even sense the timid little beggar who had simply sought a moment’s repose in a tub beyond her wildest dreams. Oh, no. Before him was the lady of the manor and, make no mistake, she was about to give vent to her pent-up frustrations.

  “I have been without a male protector, save my little brother, for more than two months and I have managed, thank you kindly, to remain unviolated. We have fought wild beasts and not been caught despite being hunted like animals. We have had to steal food to eat, and I even skinned a rabbit. Do not assume, sir, that I am ignorant because I
am female. In fact, the only person here who appears ignorant of their obligations, not to mention lacking any sort of decency, is you. A real man would offer his protection to a lady without hesitation.” She tossed back her hair and crossed her arms under her chest with finality.

  Seumas would have expected no less from one such as her. This was the exact reason he had avoided noblewomen even before his accident. Their pompous attitude and condescension went far beyond the limits of his patience. Iseabail appeared to be no different.

  Through gritted teeth, he responded. “Lady, I beg yer forgiveness for my error in judgment. Clearly ye can see to all yer own needs. Nor will I question the likely tale ye have spun. The less I know about ye the better for us both.”

  She gasped indignantly.

  “Unless ye prefer I show an interest and take ye over my knee as ye deserve? I would say ye are long overdue for a good thrashing. A little humility could go a long way.” He lifted one eyebrow. “No? Then kindly allow me to pass and retrieve my belongings.”

  He reached past her for his bag, and she moved quickly aside, as if his touch would dirty her.

  “I will leave ye to yer own devices, which clearly surpass any assistance I might have been able to give ye. Good day, madam.”

  Seumas strode from the room without looking back. Of all the arrogant, ignorant—oh, yes, ignorant—women, and he had almost stepped right into it with his offer of aid. There were many women who did not have male protection, who would gladly accept his help, but this little damnable…ignorant woman could put her nose up? So be it. He would leave her to it.

  In the courtyard, where his horse was saddled and held at the ready by Robbie, Seumas paused to focus himself on the job at hand. He tousled the boy’s hair affectionately in thanks before jumping up into his saddle. Turning his horse in an arc, he threw one last glance toward the window of his room. No, he did not need to deal with her again.

  With the other six men accompanying him, he exited the castle gates to begin their journey to the neighboring lairds. Lord Byron had yet another conquest planned, and Seumas was to assess the condition and availability of assistance—freely given or coerced, it made no difference to Lord Byron, and thus could make none to Seumas. It was not a task he relished, but he had a duty, and that was where his obligation lay. Not with some overproud, senseless woman. No matter how beautiful.