Highland Avenger

by Hannah Howell

  Once inside, Arianna stood very still, fighting her deep fear of such places, as Sir Brian made a fire. The moment the light of the fire spread throughout the small cave, she was better able to calm her fear. It was not as small as she had first thought, but, for a man of Sir Brian’s height, the area in which he could move without risking a head wound was small. The rest of the cave slanted down toward the back until it shrank into little more that a mouse’s tunnel. She heard the slow drip of water and immediately became all too aware of how ragged and dirty she was.

  “Here. A pot of soap and a drying cloth.” As soon as she took the items he held out to her, Brian draped a shirt over her arm. “A clean shirt. Ye are a wee lass so it should cover ye modestly enough. I will tend to the horses now, and brush away our tracks leading to this place. That should give ye time enough to clean up. Aye?”

  “Aye,” she answered. “Thank ye. I am verra eager to wash away the dirt.”

  She hurried toward the sound of dripping water, glancing back to make sure he had left the cave. It took all of her willpower not to just tear off her clothing, and she sternly reminded herself that she had need of them no matter how badly they were torn or stained. She could not ride about dressed only in a man’s shirt and her cloak.

  Tossing aside the last of her clothes, she stepped into the water, pleased to find it reached to her knees. She sat down in the water, uncaring of the slight chill it carried, and hurried to clean herself. Several places on her body were sore, causing her to wince as she washed, but she did not hesitate to give even those places a hearty scrubbing as well. Once her hair was washed, she dried off as best she could, squeezing and rubbing as much of the water from her hair as she could. It was not until she donned the shirt that she lost a little of her pleasure in getting clean once again.

  The shirt was soft and clean but hung only to her knees, and she had nothing to wear beneath it. Arianna pushed aside her embarrassment and washed out her clothes. There was no other choice for her. She could not wear the clothes she had shed until they were clean. Ragged though her shift and stockings were, she was not sure they would be wearable even after they were cleaned, but if they could be salvaged, at least they would not stink of seawater, blood, and mud.

  Arianna was spreading her wet clothes wherever she could on the rocks when Sir Brian returned with the packs from the horses. Before she could speak, he left again and she frowned. She ought to be helping him but suspected she was still too weak to be of much help. That angered her. Arianna detested the need to place her fate and care, as well as that of the boys, in another’s hands.

  “Foolish pride,” she muttered as she searched the packs for some food, determined to at least set out a meal for the man who was helping her.

  The aches and weakness would trouble her for a little while longer. She would have to accept that. It was a miracle she and the boys had not drowned, that they had stumbled upon ones willing to help them so quickly. Her pride could take the bruising if it meant that they all survived. Arianna knew her pride had suffered a far worse battering at the hands of her late husband and she had gained little for it. So it could certainly withstand allowing a man to help her and the boys to survive. She had, after all, come to Scotland to seek the help of her family. Sir Brian was at least allied to her family through marriage.

  “This may help to fill our bellies,” Brian said as he entered and held up a rabbit readied for the spit.

  Arianna stared at the catch in wide-eyed surprise. “I didnae think ye were gone long enough to go hunting.”

  “Didnae hunt it. Ill-fated creature hopped right into the midst of the horses. Fortunately, I am verra good at throwing a knife.” He set the rabbit down and pulled a clever collection of iron rods from the pack, which he swiftly set up as a spit above the fire. “My brothers willnae be pleased that I took the pack with this in it.” He winked at her and grinned. “It is a highly prized tool for one’s travels.”

  A blush heated her cheeks and her heart actually beat faster in her chest, as Arianna reeled a little beneath the heady power of that smile. He is kin, she reminded herself firmly, but herself was all too quick to also remind her of the very tenuous connection of the MacFingals to the Murrays, despite his brother’s marriage to her cousin. She had a lot of cousins. Arianna just nodded in a way she felt certain looked idiotic and then moved back from the fire to give him plenty of room to set up the spit. And to put some distance between her and a far too handsome man, she thought ruefully, silently accepting her own cowardice.

  It troubled her that he could make her feel like some innocent maid who was caught up in her first time of flirting with a man. While it was true that she had had little experience with such games before marrying, she was now a woman who had been married for five years, betrayed, and widowed. She should be long past such blushes and flutters.

  “Do ye ken how to cook it?” he asked.

  “Aye. All the women in my clan learn how to cook. ’Tis believed it helps in kenning what is going on in the kitchens of the house the woman may rule one day, or if she weds a mon who cannae really afford such help,” she replied, and then quickly shut her mouth, afraid that she was beginning to babble.

  “A verra wise thing to do. I will leave ye to it for I need to clean up.”

  Arianna was astonished at how difficult it was for her to keep her full attention on cooking the rabbit as he walked away. She had never had any compelling urge to watch men so closely before. At times she had paused to appreciate a handsome face or a tall, strong body, but only for a glance or two. A part of her, however, was eager to closely watch Sir Brian MacFingal, to gaze for a long time at the way his tall strong body moved, the way his long, thick black hair gleamed in the light, or how his eyes lightened and darkened with his changing moods.

  He did have a very handsome face, she mused. It was a strong face, its hard lines almost predatory when he was angry yet quickly softened by a smile. Those thickly lashed, dark blue eyes and the slight fullness to his lips softened the harshness of his features as well, but she had seen how fierce he could look when she had told him that Amiel and the DeVeaux wanted to kill the boys. It was that look that had prompted her to trust him with the lives of her boys. Her doubts about trusting the man were only faint ghostly twinges now, perhaps because her heart knew she had made the best decision for the survival of her boys.

  She did not like being away from her boys, detested not knowing how they fared, yet was certain they would be protected. Just as she was certain she would be protected, that this man would do his best to get her somewhere safe and reunited with Michel and Adelar. That the occasional doubt she had did not linger puzzled her. It also worried her. She did not appear to be holding fast to her vow to be more wary, more cautious, about whom she put her trust in.

  The sound of splashing water yanked her out of her thoughts. Had he shed his clothes to wash? Arianna was shocked that such a question would leap to mind. Worse, she badly wanted to look to get an answer to that question. Utter madness, she decided, and turned her attention to the pack that held the supplies. She put every scrap of willpower she could gather into settling all her thoughts on the simple matter of putting together a decent meal. The whispered suggestion that slithered through her mind that she was doing so to impress Sir Brian was ruthlessly suppressed.

  Brian rinsed his clothes and spread them out. The rough shelter slowly filled with the tantalizing scent of roasting meat and something else. Lady Arianna had obviously decided to add something to the simple meal. By the scent of what she had made, he knew he would appreciate it but hoped she had not used too free a hand with his supplies. Gathering more while they fled her enemies would not be easy.

  Turning to join her by the fire, he hesitated after only one step in her direction. She was busily using her fingers to comb out her hair, pausing now and then to gently untangle a stubborn knot or tend to the meal. Hints of red were revealed by the light of the fire, enlivening the thick mass of honey-gold hair th
at was so long it pooled a little on the ground by her slim hips. His fingers itched to take over the chore of untangling it.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It eased the worst of a sudden fierce attack of lust but the sharp bite of hunger lingered. Something about the delicate Lady Arianna severed his control over his lusts, a control he had long prided himself on. From the time he had first looked into her soft golden eyes he had guessed that she could be trouble, but he had not truly considered just how great a temptation she could be to him. It could prove to be a very long journey ahead.

  For a moment he considered seducing her. She was no maid, but a widow. Many men considered widows fair game. Then Brian grimaced. That was the reckless MacFingal part of him whispering in his ear. From what Lady Arianna had told him, she had little cause to trust men. Seducing her would certainly not aid her in trusting him.

  “That smells verra fine, lass,” he said as he moved to sit down next to her.

  She tensed and he fought the urge to shift farther away from her. It might have been better if he had sat across the fire from her but he had not wished to stare into those captivating eyes of hers as he tried to eat his meal. Brian told himself it was best if he did not coddle her unease, either, for she had to depend upon him until she was safe with her family. He was not surprised when a little voice in his head scoffed at that excuse. It was a paltry one.

  “I mixed some leeks ye had with the stale bread and a piece of rather old cheese. ’Tis naught,” she said, trying not to be too pleased by his compliment. “Thought we ought to have more than just the meat.” She cast a glance at his pack of supplies. “Ye carry a goodly store of food.”

  “Aye. I dinnae like to go hungry.”

  “Few do.”

  The fleeting, shy smile she gave him tightened his insides with the desire he was doing such a poor job of banishing. It was a puzzle that he felt any desire at all. Although she looked a lot better than she had when they had entered the cave, she was still all bruised and scratched. Her full lips were dried and cracked by the harsh salty water of the ocean and did not look all that kissable. Her injuries did not dim the beauty of her lithe, shapely form, however, or the glory of her long hair. There was no hiding the beauty of her eyes, either.

  “Tell me all ye ken about the ones hunting ye and the lads,” he said in an abrupt attempt to turn his wandering thoughts to something other than all the reasons he wanted her.

  Arianna served him some food as she said, “I have told ye most of it. I truly believe that Amiel killed his brother and his true wife or ordered the killing done. He may have kenned the truth about Claud and Marie Anne even though the rest of the family didnae learn of it until shortly after the bodies were found, may have e’en hoped killing them both would keep that secret hidden forever. But Claud left a letter explaining how the boys were nay the bastards everyone thought them but his true heirs.”

  She shook her head and helped herself to some food. “I learned shortly after wedding Claud that his branch of the Lucette tree was, weel, verra blood proud. They were nay too certain I was their equal but they badly wished to have my dowry and the tie to my clan for it would ensure that the land they held in Scotland would be weel protected. The news that their eldest son, the heir to all titles and lands, had actually married a common wench, as they called her, appalled them. What little toleration they had shown toward Michel and Adelar faded away in a winking. They immediately set about the expensive and tedious chore of getting Claud’s marriage annulled.”

  “But what of you? Did they nay care that they exposed ye to unwarranted shame and embarrassment?”

  “Nay. They had already marked me as an utter failure as a wife for I lost the only child I conceived ere we barely kenned I was carrying one and I couldnae keep my husband away from his mistress.” She shrugged. “They didnae ken that I had already learned the truth and was planning a way to get free of the mire I found myself trapped in. All that kept me from leaving the moment I discovered the truth about the boys, about Claud’s lies, was that I wanted to find a way that saved us all, especially the boys, from gossip and the hurt it can bring.”

  “The boys all thought were your husband’s bastards.”

  “Aye. I was given the care and training of them from the verra beginning. Michel was little more than a bairn. Marie Anne didnae appear to care much for them for she rarely visited them or took them to the bonnie wee cottage Claud bought for her.

  “But none of that matters. Amiel is all that concerns me now. He doesnae want to wait until his family gets Claud’s marriage to Marie Anne annulled, or, mayhaps, he doesnae want to lose the money it will cost to see it done. From the moment Claud’s confession was read, Amiel began to plot to kill his own nephews. I truly dinnae think he kenned that Claud had left a confession but it meant he then needed to be rid of the boys, too, before he could grab what he coveted. He e’en joined hands with the DeVeaux to get it.”

  The way she nearly spat out that name told Brian all he needed to know. “An old enemy.”

  “Verra old and with a lot of Lucette blood on their hands. Matters between the Lucettes and DeVeaux had grown so deadly and dire that the king himself stepped in and forced them into a truce, promising some verra hard, and costly, punishments if the truce was broken.”

  “It didnae bring any true peace though, did it?”

  “Nay, it just made the DeVeaux grow more secretive in their crimes against the Lucettes and the Lucettes even more subtle in their vengeance. I doubt any of them even recall what started the hatred or who; they just cling to it and make a habit of the old war. Amiel may have convinced people he had the right to kill Claud and Marie Anne because of the shame Claud had brought upon the family name, but not one of his clan will e’er forgive him for dealing with the DeVeaux.”

  Brian nodded; fully understanding that, for his family had suffered such a feud until recently. His family had not known peace for long and there had been one clan, the Grays, who had held to the old feud with a deadly tenacity. This tale held all the needed insults and pride that could end with the Murrays and the Lucettes locked in a feud, especially if Arianna’s family discovered the full truth about how the family had treated her.

  “What do the DeVeaux want?”

  “Aside from simply getting some pleasure out of causing trouble for the Lucettes, I have no idea. I have e’en wondered if Amiel owed them something, some debt. Claud once told me that he held a wee bit of land the DeVeaux badly wanted, something he found greatly amusing. Amiel might have promised them that land in exchange for their aid.” She laughed, a short, harsh sound holding little humor. “He may have e’en promised them me.”

  “Why would the DeVeaux want you?”

  “My kinsmen tangled with the DeVeaux twice in the past and won each time, even gaining some land and coin from the family. All unforgivable sins in the eyes of the DeVeaux. From the moment I stepped upon French soil they kenned who I was and I ken weel that they watched me. The few times I traveled anywhere outside the Lucette lands I was verra careful, and made sure I was weel guarded.” She quickly covered her mouth with her hand as a powerful need to yawn overtook her. “Pardon.”

  “Wheesht, we stopped because we needed to rest; ye far more than I. Yet here I am making ye answer question after question. Stay,” he ordered as he stood up to fetch some blankets.

  Arianna gave in to the urge to watch him this time. He moved with an easy grace, one that hinted at the strength and agility held in his tall, lean body. He was, she decided, a pure pleasure to watch. She wryly thought that he probably had to beat the lasses away with a stick. And, from what she was beginning to recall about the MacFingals, she doubted he bothered. The old laird, Sir Brian’s father, had bred himself a small army of bastards and rumor implied that the sons, legitimate and illegitimate alike, were just as profligate. This was not a man she should be sighing after, she told herself firmly. If she ever dared to soften toward any man ever again, she would be certain he
understood that she demanded constancy. It was often said that the MacFingal men were incapable of it.

  Brian gently pushed her aside when she reached for the blankets he had brought her. “Ye need to rest, m’lady,” he said as he made them each a very rough bed with the blankets. “It is important that ye regain your strength as quickly as possible.” He frowned when he saw that she had put away the remains of their meal while he had spread out the blankets and he pointed at the crude bed he had made for her. “Sleep.”

  She rolled her eyes and moved to the blanket spread over the hard floor. The two meager beds he had made were set very close to each other but she decided she would say nothing. Instinct told her that this was not a man who would force himself upon her. She did not ignore the possibility that he might attempt a seduction since she was a widow and close at hand, but Arianna was not worried about succumbing. If she was foolish enough to do so, however, she was no maid who could be forced into marriage to save the family honor. She was a widow of three and twenty.

  The hard floor was not softened much by the blanket he had spread out for her. Arianna struggled to hide a wince as she settled herself down and pulled the second blanket he had left for her over herself. Despite the weariness that pulled at her mind and body, she stared wide-eyed at the flickering light of the fire dancing over the ceiling of their little cave. This was the first night in years that she could recall not bidding good sleep to her boys. Her arms ached to pull them close for that last kiss of the day.

  Arianna knew that the Lucettes had thought her acceptance of the boys very odd, even considered it proof that she was not good enough for their son and heir. It had not really troubled her. From the moment the boys had been given into her care, she had loved them. The fact that she had suffered no jealousy over Marie Anne being their mother, over the fact that her new husband had a somewhat sordid past, should have told her a lot about her feelings concerning her husband and marriage, but she had ignored the whispers of caution that had slipped through her mind every so often.