Protection By Her Deceptive Highlander (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 5)

by Emilia Ferguson

  “Bread and porridge,” a voice said loudly behind him.

  Brodgar jumped, then flushed. “Porridge, if you please,” he said.

  The woman nodded at him, disappearing into the kitchen. Barra laughed.

  “Sorry. I should have warned you she was there. You must have had a scare, when you heard her behind you.”

  “I did,” he nodded. He grinned, feeling self-conscious.

  They ate in comfortable silence. The porridge was rich and sticky, served with butter and salt. It warmed him up, relieving the aches and pains of the previous night. He looked up from his own meal, noticing with a tender feeling how she ate with enjoyment.

  “A good meal,” he observed. She was leaning back in her seat, her cheeks flushed, eyes brighter than they had been, a trace of milk on her chin. She nodded, smiling broadly at him.

  “Grand,” she nodded. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a strand of hair temporarily obscuring one eye. He thought that she looked so beautiful in that moment – a creature of the woodlands, so natural and sweet.

  His heart overflowed. She would be out of place in his uncle’s castle. Although not because the others would outshine her.

  No, she was brighter than all the sconce-held torches of his uncle’s hall. He wished that he could take her there, if only to show everyone the beauty of wild things.

  “What is it?” she asked, her brow wrinkled with worry. Brodgar blinked.

  “Nothing,” he said swiftly. “I was just lost in thought.”

  She grinned. “Good. I thought it was something serious.”

  He had to laugh. It was such an easy thing to be happy here.

  “Fresh milk?” the innkeeper’s wife said from behind him. He was prepared this time and, though he got a fright, he didn’t show it. He nodded.

  “Aye. Thank you.”

  When they’d had their fill, he gathered his things in the loft, then climbed down to join Barra at the door.

  “Ready to go?” he asked. Seeing her this close, he felt abruptly shy. The kiss yesterday was in the forefront of his mind as if having done so once made him unable to think of anything but doing it again.

  She looked up at him and smiled, hesitant and sweet. “Aye. Let’s go.”

  They headed down the path and onto the road. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her, his eyes going again and again to her soft lips, his loins aching as he dreamed of gently running his tongue across those lips, slowly feeling it enter her mouth, so warm and firm.

  As they walked, Brodgar became aware of a prickling sensation between his shoulder blades. Long training and experience at arms made him realize that it was from somebody watching him. Without wanting to alarm Barra, or show that he’d noticed, he turned his head briefly sideways. There!

  A horseman, not twenty paces away, was riding up. He was looking at them as if he had never seen anybody traveling on foot. Brodgar tensed and Barra stopped.

  “We should get off the path,” he said quickly. He drew her out of the way of the horse just as, breath whistling, the horse stopped a few inches behind them.

  The rider shouted as his horse reared, then leaned forward as it brought its hoofs crashing down on the road.

  “McIlvor?” he addressed Brodgar. He had his hands gripping the reins.

  Brodgar winced. Looking sideways at Barra, he saw no recognition on her face. Evidently, she didn’t know of the McIlvors or their extensive landholdings throughout the province. He gave the man a brief nod.

  “I am he,” he said.

  “A message from your uncle, sir! It’s urgent.”

  Brodgar felt his heart sink into his shoes. In that moment, it was not so much the urgency of the message, or even the fact that his uncle thought fit to send riders after him. It was the thought of what it would mean to Barra.

  She was rooted to the ground just off the path, staring at the messenger. She looked shocked. He swallowed, utterly resigned.

  “Aye. You can give it to me.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Brodgar watched with detached indifference as the man climbed down out of the saddle and dug in a leather saddle bag, then handed him a bundle. He broke the seal and unfolded the crackling parchment, pleased that, unlike many of his fellow nobles, he could actually read. Many of them left the duty to priests, having little time between ruling and fighting to learn the skill.

  He scanned the handwriting, thinking with a twist of the lip that he never thought he’d have reason to be grateful to Brother Alec, who had taught him to read.

  Nephew, the letter read. I am writing with urgent need to recall you. Our castle risks falling into foreign hands. There is need of every able-bodied sort at the garrison, to help it hold out against invasion. You would not wish Blackheath to fall.

  He left out the salutations at the bottom, which were written in indecipherable haste, followed by his uncle’s name, penned hastily. The secretary had written this, he guessed. His uncle would never have been bothered – too busy training or drilling the garrison soldiers. He handed it back wordlessly.

  “I have read the message, and agree to it.” His voice was without emotion. “I will do as he requires.”

  “You will come with me, sir?” the rider asked.

  Brodgar sighed. “You needn’t call me sir,” he said with infinite weariness. “I’ll come.” He glanced at Barra and shot the messenger a look, then gestured to her to join him in a clearing.

  “Barra,” he said softly. “I need to go. That was from my uncle. As you overheard.”

  She nodded. Her eyes were wide and tear-filled and he felt his heart twist. He had lied to her, concealed his identity, endangered her. Now she knew the extent to which he had lied. He wished he could have told her himself.

  “Barra,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I didn’t mean to…I mean, I’m not…who I said.”

  “I understand.” Her voice was tight in her throat. “Is your name real?”

  He grinned, feeling a twist in his chest. He nodded. “It is. Brodgar is my name. I didn’t lie about that.”

  “Good,” she said. Her lips twisted into a smile, but it was a sad smile.

  “You need to leave,” she made it a statement.

  “Barra, I’m not going to leave you.” Brodgar protested, feeling his heart twist. “I will stay with you until you reach safety. We will ride with the messenger – that will make our ride even safer. And faster,” he added, wishing the fellow had thought to bring a spare horse.

  “I suppose,” she said.

  “Or,” he added, rummaging in the purse he wore tied to his belt, “We can go back to Lychley, and you can find passage back to the farm…” he handed her a shilling – more than enough for a stay at the inn and to buy reliable transport back.

  “Sir?” a voice came from behind him. He whipped around, angrily.

  “Why did you not wait for me, as I commanded?” he asked harshly.

  “Sir, I only wished to say that, sir…I rode with an escort. They are just behind me. Some of the men can ride with the young mistress, and escort her wherever she wishes.”

  “Thank you,” Brodgar managed. It was a good idea. “Now, please. Leave me to speak to Miss Hume alone. I have much to say.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He waited until he heard the soldier’s footsteps die away. Then, heart full of sorrow, he turned to Barra.

  “I think,” he said, coughing to clear his throat, “that is the safest way home.”

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  “You will return home safely, and there will be nobody to speak badly of you there. I promise.” The arrival at the head of a troop of armed men should allay any bad deductions her father might make, or at least he hoped so.

  “I suppose,” she said again. Her face was sad, her eyes focused on her boots, on the path…on anywhere except his face or in his eyes.

  Brodgar looked at his toes. What could he do? He had an idea. Reaching for his doublet, he pulled something out of a
pocket sewn inside. Large, heavy and metal, it was warm and strangely soft-edged. He passed it to her. Her eyes widened.

  “Brodgar, I…” she began.

  “Take it,” he said firmly. “It bears the mark of my uncle’s folk. If you have need of me, give that ring to any innkeeper you can find. He will see to it that it is delivered to my uncle’s home.”

  It was the seal ring of his family. Bearing the crest of the house, a pelican with outstretched wings, symbol of sacrifice and holiness, it was made of pewter. He looked at it held on her palm.

  “It’s too big,” he commented with a hesitant smile. “You’ll have to keep it in your pocket.”

  “I cannot take it,” she said. Her palm closed around it and he thought she was about to pass it back to him. He held her hand, pushing it gently away.

  “Please, take it,” he said. “That way, even when I have to be away, for a while, I can know you will be safe. I will not be at peace, if I do not know you have it.”

  “Brodgar, I do not think I should have this,” she said. Her eyes were wet. He shook his head.

  “There is nobody else I would wish to have it,” he said. His voice was raw. He coughed to clear it. On the path, not ten paces away and only just out of earshot, his guardsman waited. He winced, wishing he had more time.

  “Brodgar…”

  “Please,” he said. He bent down and, before he had planned it, he drew her into a crushing embrace. His lips, hot and eager, sought hers. He pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue, questing and firm, pushing inside.

  She melted against him and he held her close, feeling more aroused as he felt her soft body pressed to his lean, hard one. Her mouth tasted sweet and her skin smelled like leaves. He let her tongue slip over his as he tasted her, pushing his mouth firmly over hers, loving the feel of her soft lips beneath his own.

  “Barra,” he murmured. He felt desperate with need as he stepped back.

  “You should go,” she whispered.

  “I don’t want to,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I will see you again.” It was a statement, not a question. He nodded.

  “I will,” he murmured. “And don’t forget…call on me whenever you have need.”

  “I shall.”

  He drew her into an embrace, holding her body tight against his, heart aching. He didn’t dare to kiss her, because if he did so, he would push her down into the damp loam and make love to her. He stepped away.

  “Stay safe,” he whispered. “My sweetling.”

  It was only as he walked away, almost out of the range of his ears, that he heard her reply, a whisper on the wind.

  “Stay safe.”

  When he reached his guardsman, his eyes were damp.

  He blinked them back, fixing the fellow with a remote look. “Take me to my uncle.”

  A Difficult Road

  Barra looked down at her feet. Four men in chain mail and linen tunics stood before her. One of them leaned on a pikestaff and she raised her chin, eyes dull, as she heard him clear his throat. He looked down at her hesitantly.

  “Miss…we’re here to take you back to the town.”

  “Thank you,” Barra whispered. She had never had to address four strangers at once before, and, even worse, she’d never been called “miss” before. Or met a troop of soldiers.

  “My name is Luke,” he added. She felt her heart twist as his lips formed into a swift half-smile.

  “Hello, Luke,” she said softly. “I’m Barra.” Her voice was almost a whisper, a shy murmur that she had to force out.

  “Hello, Barra.”

  “Come on, lads!” a voice interrupted from the back, jeering and hard. “You’re not paid tae stand about, and nor am I. Let’s get to town.”

  Barra looked back to where a blunt-faced soldier stood, hands on hips, holding the lead rope of a horse. She watched as her newfound friend threw him an indifferent glance.

  “Nobody said you were in charge,” he said coolly. “Now, Miss…”

  “Nobody said you had to stand around bandying, either,” the man cut through his words with a hard laugh. “My name’s Greer,” he added, giving Barra a white-toothed smile.

  Barra swallowed uncomfortably. The loudness of him, and the rudeness of his interruption, combined with his bold posture – hands on hips, legs astride – were threatening and harsh. They grated on her and she instinctively took a step to Luke.

  Luke raised a brow at the impudent man. “That’s enough, Greer,” he said.

  Barra cast a glance at the man as Luke looked away. His smile had disappeared, but the look in his eyes was nothing short of lethal. She suppressed a shiver, keeping Luke between her and the man as they walked back up the path.

  “I have a spare horse with us,” he said. “We brought one for his lordship, but it seems he’s gone ahead.”

  Barra schooled her face swiftly neutral. His lordship? She felt her mind shudder at one more shock in one morning. Who was he? She wasn’t sure whether she should be angry at his deception, or relieved. In spite of her anger and confusion, she couldn’t help a tiny flame of happiness.

  He was a highborn man. He had shown interest in her – more than interest.

  The tiny flame of pride flickered, wavering as Luke turned to her, a frown on his face and in his green eyes.

  “Can I help you up?”

  She took an involuntary step back. A black horse was in the path, vast with feathered hoofs and a broad face. He was a horse like those the knights rode and she shuddered, feeling complete horror at the thought of getting onto the back of such a vast, terrifying horse.

  “I don’t…I have never ridden before.” Her voice was a whisper.

  She heard someone laugh unpleasantly and she didn’t need to look to know who it was. Greer. The man was clearly trouble. She saw Luke nod slowly.

  “You can ride with me,” he said. “Brendan? Use my horse.”

  “Aye, Luke.”

  Barra watched as another man took the reins of Luke’s horse, leaving he and she in the path with the monstrous destrier. She gulped as he looked at her, one brow raised, his lip twisted shyly.

  “Let me lift you,” he said. “It’s not so bad. The lad’s well-trained. You couldn’t ride a better horse.”

  “I’m sure,” she whispered.

  Shutting her eyes, she let Luke lift her, feeling a mix of horror and shame and, somewhere underneath both of these, a glimmer of surprise. She, Miss Hume, was riding a knight’s steed.

  She settled herself on the hard leather saddle, then winced as the horse stepped forward as Luke’s weight settled behind her. She shut her eyes as he reached around her, taking the pommel of the saddle in one hand.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “I have to take the reins.”

  “It’s alright,” Barra said, feeling as if she might die of humiliation when she heard Greer laugh. Luke twisted around in the saddle and she guessed he had leveled a hard stare at the man. Good, she thought.

  At least, she thought as they set off, one sickening, lurching, swaying step by step, as long as Luke was with her, Greer would not take the risk of actually harming her.

  She looked up to catch his dark eyes watching her. She looked swiftly away. Her spine prickled and she wanted to be sick. Even worse than the riding – which was already feeling safer than it had when they started off – his watchful gaze threatened her.

  I will be pleased to be safely home.

  “This forest is near where my family came from,” Luke said, as they left the woods and started to ride across an open field. “We’re farming folk, in truth. I don’t know how I ended up a soldier.” He laughed, light and easy.

  “I see,” Barra said, feeling herself relax somewhat as they walked across the field. She was becoming accustomed to the easy, swaying steps of the horse, and it didn’t feel so unsafe anymore to be up there, gripping the front of the saddle as Luke held the reins from behind.

  If Greer had not been there, she would have relaxed more.


  “You’re a born soldier, Luke – not sure I can say that for the rest of us,” the fourth man in the company added, riding up behind them. “I’m Alex,” he added with a smile.

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  Alex smiled, his cheeks reddening. Barra bit her cheeks to keep back a grin and realized that the journey home might not be too terrible, provided Luke – clearly the senior among them – was near.

  The morning stretched to afternoon. They had decided to retrace the path she had taken yesterday, heading to Lychley and then back along the forest path way to the farmstead. Luke had seemed unconcerned about the presence of English soldiers.

  “With four of us, and them already disheartened, all is favoring us.”

  “Aye,” Alex chuckled. “And with his lordship already fighting them…we’ll be surprised to see them still daring to ride around the paths in this wood.”

  Barra nodded, too shy to reply. She heard more of Brodgar with every passing hour. He was, in the opinions of these men, the fiercest fighter, the most astute leader. She didn’t think they knew praise too high for him.

  “Come on, lads,” Luke interposed, interrupting a wager on who would cut down the English troops first. “We need to hurry. Night falls swiftly in this time of the year.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They rode without stopping, besides a brief stop to take bread and cheese and rest the horses. Luke passed Barra a water skin.

  “Drink, lass,” he said, wiping his mouth with his hand. “It’s just water,” he added as she paused hesitantly.

  She nodded and took it, drinking thirstily. The water was warm from resting against the saddle, but it made her feel instantly more awake.

  When they mounted up again, Barra felt more at ease. She had grown used to being on horseback and, though she was still grateful that they did not go fast, she was sure that, soon, she would be comfortable at a trot. The view from up here was unique – she had never observed the countryside going past more swiftly than she could walk, or seen grass and snow from so far overhead. It was a new perspective, and she enjoyed it.