Highland Hero

by Hannah Howell

  Andrew stood up from where he had collapsed on the ground and brushed himself off. “ ’Tis a great pity that the coward still lives, but at least we ken one thing now that we werenae sure of before.”

  “Aye? And what is that?” Lucais asked as he and his cousins started back to Dunmor.

  “Edina is exactly what she claims to be. She has no part in Simon’s murderous plots. She found Malcolm, saved him from dying in the wood, and believes it her duty to stay at his side until that danger is gone.”

  “Aye, from what little I heard, Simon didnae ken who she was or understand what she was doing there.” Although this proof of Edina’s innocence elated him, Lucais found that it left him a little confused as well. “I have to admit that I share Simon’s confusion. Aye, she has it in her head that it is her duty to stay at Malcolm’s side until she is sure he is safe, but why would she have that idea? Why not just be satisfied that he is with his kinsmen? She must ken by now that we willnae hurt the child, yet she stays.”

  “There is something behind her determination, but I cannae say what it is. I just sense that she does this for more reasons than the child’s safety.” Andrew smiled crookedly and shrugged. “I make no sense, I ken it. I just ken that there is some reason we cannae guess at. Mayhap something that happened in her past that makes her so determined. She doesnae just speak of Malcolm’s safety. She mixes it all up with his comfort and care.”

  Ian nodded as they approached the high gates of Dunmor. “I think I ken what Andrew is trying to say. The only way to ken what is in her head is to ask her though, dinnae ye think?”

  “Aye,” agreed Lucais, espying Edina waiting just inside the bailey and walking straight toward her. “How is Malcolm?” he asked even as he looked her over carefully for any wounds, relieved to find none.

  “Weel, he was a wee bit upset o’er the rough way I picked him up and ran with him, but he has recovered.” Edina inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that he was no more than bruised and scratched. “Is Simon dead?”

  “Nay. We lost him.”

  “Then it is not over yet.”

  “Not yet. He was mounted and, when he managed to break free of the battle, there was no hope of catching him, although we did run after him for a ways.”

  “I still dinnae understand how anyone could kill two people and try to kill a bairn, but I saw what pushes him to such cruelties. He is filled with anger. He nearly stinks of it.”

  “And, sadly, he has decided to unleash it upon my family.”

  “After a fortnight where nothing happened, I had hoped that he would not seek out Malcolm, that whatever had made him kill your sister and her husband had been sated and he would leave the bairn alone. He will never cease trying to kill the child. The brief moment of humanity that stopped him from taking a sword to Malcolm before has gone.”

  “We will watch. Now I must clean this dirt off and I want to give Gar a verra large bone.”

  Edina smiled as she followed him inside of the keep. “I didnae ken who was attacking at first, only that it allowed me to flee. But ye used Gar’s attack to signal your own, didnae ye?”

  “Aye. He drew all eyes his way. Before that we risked your life and Malcolm’s.” At the bottom of the stairs he paused to look her over again. “Are ye sure ye are unhurt?”

  “Aye, I am fine.”

  “There will be no more walks outside of these walls unless ye take armed men with ye.”

  “None, not until that mon is dead.”

  “Good. Now go and let Mary see to your scratches.”

  She nodded, a little surprised that she had any, then recalled that she had paid little heed to rocks, brambles, or anything else in her way as she had run back to the safety of Dunmor. As she climbed up the stairs to her bedchamber, she watched Lucais disappear into the great hall. When he had walked up to her she had felt shy, at a loss for words. The proof of his innocence still filled her mind and heart, and she had feared she would say something about it. It was not something she should speak of, for it would reveal to him that she had suspected him of being the sort of coward who would murder a child. Even though her suspicions had been weak and wavering, and he had known that she did not fully trust him speaking of such things aloud would only cause hurt and insult.

  As she stepped into her bedchamber, she saw Mary tucking Malcolm into his crib and asked, “Is he unhurt?”

  “Aye, mistress. Ye and the laird saved him from Simon, did ye not?”

  “Aye, I suppose. I was just a little worried that I might have bruised the poor lad, as I was rough with him when I tried to rush him out of harm’s way.” She stepped over to the crib and looked down at the sleeping child, relieved to see no obvious signs of her rough handling.

  “Better a few wee bruises than a cut throat.”

  Edina shivered at the thought and moved to the washbowl to clean the dirt from her hands and face. She was glad that Lucais was the good man everyone said he was, that her instincts and her heart were right in their judgments. However, that left her with a man who wanted to kill a child simply because he was twisted with jealousy and anger. Such a thing was beyond her understanding, and, if she did not understand it, how could she fight it?

  Chapter 5

  A soft curse escaped Edina as she slipped out of the keep and started to walk around the bailey. It had been a week since the confrontation with Simon, and in that short time her life had been turned upside down. Lucais had changed. He had been a little flirtatious before, stolen a kiss or two, but now he seemed to be doggedly pursuing her. At every corner he was there, smiling, flattering, touching. What really frightened her was how much she was enjoying it. She needed to get away from him so that she could think clearly.

  Clutching her cloak more tightly around her to ward off the chill in the late August night air, she scowled at the ground as she walked and struggled to sort out her confused mind and heart. One thing she was sure of was that no one was suspicious of her any longer. Just as the battle had shown her that Lucais was innocent, so it had shown the people of Dunmor that she was equally innocent. Since she had nursed a few suspicions about them, she did not feel insulted that they had nursed a few about her. A child’s life was at stake. One had to be very careful about whom one trusted.

  The trouble with knowing that Lucais was innocent was that the knowledge had taken away the one restraint she had used to hold back the feelings she had for him. The possibility that he was a threat to Malcolm had been enough to make her hesitate. Now each time he smiled at her, all her feelings flooded through her, making her weak, causing her to melt in his arms. She could no longer ignore it. She loved him. It should make her happy, but there was no indication that he returned her feelings. He was also too high a reach for her. Men like him did not take a poor, landless, orphaned girl for a wife.

  She had to fight the urge to flee Dunmor. Malcolm was still in danger, and although she now knew that Lucais and the people of Dunmor could protect him, she had made a vow to stay with the child until the danger had passed. She also knew that she would not be able to sleep at night if she did not stay until she was absolutely sure that the child was safe. Fleeing was no answer.

  “Slow down, woman,” said a familiar voice from directly behind her a moment before Lucais caught her by the arm and halted her blind march around the keep.

  Edina looked up at him and her heart sank. She wanted him. The desire he stirred in her haunted her dreams. It was so much a part of her that she was sure he was aware of it. Her only comfort was that he could not know it was born of love. He had not asked for that, and no matter what else happened she wanted to be able to cling to at least some tiny shred of pride. It would devastate her to offer him her love, only to have him reject it, and she had the feeling she was going to be suffering enough pain very soon.

  “I have a question I have been meaning to ask,” he began a little hesitantly, threading his fingers through his thick hair as he frowned down at her.

  “Weel? A
sk it, then,” she said. “I will either answer it or tell ye to go away.”

  Lucais smiled faintly, then grew serious again. “Why have ye taken on this duty of being Malcolm’s protector? Aye, at first I could understand. Ye didnae ken what was going on, or who ye could trust. But now? Why? He is no kin of yours.”

  Edina only briefly considered telling him it was none of his business or making up some grand tale of vows and honor. She did not want to bring up all the old, painful memories of her childhood, but decided he was owed the truth. He had tolerated a great deal from her, allowing her into his home, and even respecting her claim of being his own nephew’s protector, a role that was his by birth.

  “I fear some of what makes me act as I do is that I, too, was left in the forest.” She smiled faintly when his eyes widened, and he slipped his arms around her in a silent gesture of comfort. “My mother told my uncle that she was going riding and took me with her to make the tale seem the truth. When we got into the forest to the south of my uncle’s lands, my mother met with her lover. She set me down on the ground, turned, and rode away with the mon, never looking back.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Five. I waited, ne’er moving from the spot, but she ne’er returned. I waited the whole night and much of the next day, and then my uncle found me.”

  Lucais could not believe what he was hearing. Such cruelty was beyond his understanding. He felt a need to soothe that hurt, but knew he could not. It did explain her strange, fierce determination to stay with Malcolm until she was sure he was safe and loved, however. The urge he had to find the woman and punish her for her cruelty also told him that his feelings for Edina went a lot deeper than lust.

  He inwardly smiled, amused at his own vagaries. He wanted her even then, and that did not surprise him. The desire he felt for her had been there from the beginning, growing stronger every day. At the moment, however, he was also feeling things like outrage over what had been done to her, fury at the ones who had done it, and an overwhelming tenderness. Very soon he was going to have to sort out his own heart and mind, decide just what he was going to do about Edina MacAdam, because the moment the threat Simon presented was eradicated, Edina would leave. Now, he decided, was not the time, and he turned his full attention back to her tragic story.

  “Did ye e’er see her again?” he asked.

  “Nay.” Edina sighed and leaned against him. This was the first time anyone had ever offered her sympathy concerning her mother’s desertion, and she decided it did not hurt to enjoy it for a little while. “When I was twelve my uncle called me to him and told me that my mother had died, stabbed by a jealous wife. He said she had lived like a whore and that it was justice that she had died like one. We ne’er spoke of her again.”

  “What of your father?” he asked in a slightly hoarse voice, not sure whom he detested the most, her mother or her uncle, who was obviously a cold man.

  “He died but months after I was born. I ne’er kenned the mon. From the way Maida the cook spoke of him from time to time, I dinnae think he would have been much better than my mother.” She leaned back and smiled at him. “Dinnae look so sad. I was kept weel enough. I was clothed, fed, and housed. Many a bairn left orphaned doesnae get e’en that. Howbeit, when I saw wee Malcolm lying alone in the wood—” She shook her head.

  “I understand. I am almost sorry I asked,” he murmured, and shook his head. “Ye have had an unhappy life, havenae ye?”

  “It wasnae so bad that ye need to pity me,” she said, starting to tug away from him only to have him hold her a little tighter.

  “Dinnae confuse sympathy with pity, bonnie Edina.” He touched a kiss to her forehead. “I might pity ye if all that had happened had turned ye into some terrified wee lass who cowers when she sees her own shadow, but ye arenae that.”

  “I am afraid of the forest,” she whispered.

  “Most people are, even if only at night. I am eight and twenty and I wouldnae be eager to spend a whole night alone in the forest. Ye were no more than a bairn and, if your lack of size now is any indication, little more than a bite or two for any beastie that might have found ye.” He met her scowl with a brief smile. “Nay, I am but passing sorry that ye had to grow to womanhood among such an uncaring lot. The way your uncle told ye of your mother’s death tells me that he is a cold mon. Ye couldnae have found much comfort there.”

  “He is a good mon, truly,” she said as she eased out of his hold, finding such tender proximity dangerously arousing. “He ne’er beat me and he gave me all that was needed to stay alive. I think he just doesnae ken how to be, weel, happy or kindly. Dinnae forget, he was the one who came searching for me, took me home, and raised me.”

  “True. Mayhap he just didnae ken that there is a wee bit more needed to raise a bairn than food, clothes, and a roof,” he said as he took her by the hand and started to lead her back to the keep. “Mayhap that was all he e’er got, and he was ne’er shown another way.”

  “Ye have decided that I have walked enough, have ye?” she asked, but she made no attempt to break free of his light grip.

  “Aye. The summer fades quickly and there is a bite to the air.”

  “I am stronger than I look. A wee chill in the air willnae cause me to fall ill.”

  “Ye have also not had any food this night.”

  When he passed the door to the great hall and led her up the stairs, she frowned. “Have they cleared the tables, then?”

  “Nay, I have had the cook prepare us something that is just for us.”

  Her suspicion grew in one large bound when he opened the door to his bedchamber. She tensed as he tugged her inside. This was far too intimate and far too close to a bed. It was undoubtedly just how he wanted it, and a large part of her did as well, but Edina knew she had to fight that reckless part of her.

  “I dinnae think this is a good idea,” she said, and turned back to the door.

  Lucais grabbed her by the hands and tugged her over to a small table set in front of the huge stone fireplace that warmed his room. “I swear to ye, loving, that I will do naught that ye cannae agree to,” he vowed as he gently pushed her down into a chair.

  And that was the real problem, Edina mused as she watched him sit down across from her and pour each of them some wine. She could easily be persuaded to agree to most anything Lucais asked of her. Smiling faintly, she touched her silver goblet to his when he raised it in a silent toast. It had been difficult enough for her to turn from his gentle seduction when they had been surrounded by people as in the great hall or the bailey. Now they were enclosed in privacy, warmed by the glow of a low-burning fire, and facing each other over a fine meal. Edina was not confident that she had the strength to resist his wiles. She could try to flee to her room, but, as he smiled at her over the savory roast lamb they dined on, the door through which she could escape suddenly looked miles away.

  Lucais saw the soft look in Edina’s eyes and inwardly smiled. He easily pushed aside the small twinge of guilt he felt over his attempts to seduce a wellborn maid. Edina wanted him; he was certain of it. The desire was there to see in the way she looked at him, and it was clear to feel every time they kissed. He had no intention of forcing her to his bed, but he was going to do his best to make her give in to that desire and come into his arms willingly.

  Chapter 6

  “I have spent most of the evening speaking of old battles,” Lucais murmured as he moved the table out of the way and sat down on the sheepskin rug by the fireplace. “Come, our bellies are full and ’tis time to take our ease.” He patted the rug by his side. “Now ’tis your turn to tell me of your adventures.”

  Edina eyed the spot where he wanted her to sit. The unease she had felt when he had first tugged her into his room had been lulled by conversation and good food, but now it returned in force. There was a warmth in his gray eyes that told her talk was not all he wanted from her. The moment she sat down beside him she was silently offering him the opportunity to gain what he reall
y sought.

  She glanced at the door and thought about leaving, claiming a need to seek her own bed and a good night’s sleep. It almost made her smile when she realized that she could not do it, she could not retreat again. He offered no more than passion, but she ached for it. Soon Simon would be defeated and there would be no reason for her to linger at Dunmor. She would return to Glenfair and all its coldness. Here was a beautiful man offering her warmth, no matter how fleeting, and Edina decided she wanted some. Even if it were for only one night, she wanted to be held in his arms, to taste the fullness of the passion promised in his kisses. She also wanted love, marriage, and babies, but had little hope of being offered that. Edina knew that if she tried to gain it all, she would end up with nothing, not even a sweet memory. Inwardly taking a deep breath to steady herself, she sat down beside him.

  “I fear I have no great adventures to tell ye about,” she said, silently cursing the tremor in her voice that revealed her nervousness and desire.

  “Have ye led such a calm, peaceful life, then?” Lucais reached out to undo the strip of deer hide she had tied her hair back with, smiling gently at her when her eyes widened.

  “Aye.” She swallowed hard when he began to comb his fingers through her hair, plainly enjoying the feel of it. “The most exciting thing I have e’er done is a wee bit of poaching, but I have ne’er been caught at it.”

  “That is what ye were doing when we found you.” He refilled her goblet and draped his arm around her shoulders, lightly tugging her closer.

  “Aye. My uncle’s lands are verra small, and sometimes there isnae any game to be found on them.”

  “Ye will get yourself hanged.”

  “Aye, I have feared that at times, but then the fear passes and I do it again.”

  “Weel, try to cling to the fear a little harder in the future. Hanging is the gentlest of punishments visited upon poachers, and I dinnae think your beauty and sex will save ye. Not every time anyway.”