“Aye, I see ye’ve been a’ winnowing all right.” Graham shifted in the saddle, an impending sense of doom settling heavy in the pit of his stomach. He forced himself not to falter beneath the lovely woman’s golden-eyed gaze. “We should leave at dawn tomorrow rather than midday today. Makes for better traveling, ye ken? Gets more miles behind us afore we have to stop and make camp for the evening.” He shrugged toward Duncan. “Besides, my brother arrived this verra day. A night’s rest is needed for both himself and his mount.”
Duncan snorted out a laugh as he made a dashing bow from his saddle. “Your ladyship. Duncan MacCoinnich, at your service.”
Lady Mercy gave him a quick curtsy. “Master MacCoinnich,” she said, her tone polite but strained.
“Your most welcome to call me Duncan, m’lady.” He grinned. “Might help keep the Master MacCoinnichs on the trip straight, aye? ’Course, I am the better looking one.” He gave Lady Mercy a knowing wink.
Duncan’s familiarity with the lass, irritated Graham to no end. Before Lady Mercy could respond, Graham interrupted. “She’ll do no such thing.” He edged his horse a step forward. “Ye may call me, Graham, m’lady. Dinna fret about using Duncan’s Christian name, if ye dinna wish to do so. Ye can call him plain ole MacCoinnich if ye like—or boy’s a more apt title. ’Tis what the rest of us MacCoinnich brothers call him.”
“Ye’re an arse,” Duncan observed with a belittling cut of his eyes in Graham’s direction.
Lady Mercy’s nervous gaze flitted back and forth between the two men, her dark brows arched in an attractive display of confusion and subdued amusement. “Perhaps, while we are traveling, I should use both your given names to avoid confusion.” She cleared her throat with a light ahem and pressed her hands together in supplication. “But Graham,” she paused and rewarded him with a kind, placating look. “Did I understand you to say we shan’t be leaving today?”
“That’s exactly what he said, your ladyship,” Lieutenant St. Johns interrupted. “This Scot appears to think of no one’s wishes but his own. I informed him such an attitude was not acceptable.”
Graham almost laughed out loud at the cold haughtiness of Lady Mercy’s glare as she turned it on the lieutenant. He held his tongue and winked at Duncan to do the same.
“Your name, sir?” Lady Mercy asked.
The lieutenant’s Adam’s apple skittered up and down his throat in a hard swallow. “Lieutenant George St. Johns, ma’am. His Majesty’s guard—at your service.”
“I shall thank you to refrain from commenting on questions not directed to you, sir, and everyone here will be treated with respect. Neither rudeness nor a troublesome nature will be tolerated on this trip. Is that understood?” Lady Mercy’s eyes narrowed, reminding Graham of a wild feline about to pounce on its prey.
“Understood, ma’am.” The lieutenant straightened his shoulders, then stared straight ahead.
Aye, now there’s the strength he’d heard in her earlier. What a lass. Graham grinned, secretly hoping for a continuation of the redcoat’s scolding.
Lady Mercy’s attention returned to Graham, thankfully, with less ferocity than what she’d focused on the lieutenant. “I understand the soundness of your logic, sir, but I beg you reconsider.” A wariness shadowed her features, and Graham swore the enticing lass almost cringed as though she feared something—surely, she didn’t fear him? The thought gave him pause.
“Master MacCoinnich… I mean, Graham—others of the king’s guard alerted us to your brother’s arrival today.” She clenched her gloved hands together in a sign of supplication. “I am quite certain you’re not surprised to learn that His Majesty takes measures to watch everything.”
“Spies, ye mean.” Graham gritted his teeth. He’d thought as much, but he’d not expected the king to watch them so closely before they’d even left London. “Aye. I expected no less.”
“I am sorry.” Lady Mercy turned aside, looking back toward her wagons. “At the king’s order, when your brother was sighted close to the city, we gathered here with all our equipment in tow. Might we not make our way into the countryside for a short distance today, then set up camp early so your brother and his mount could find their needed rest?” She faced him once more, her aura of grace, strength, and composure fully restored. After a quick glance at his horse and the packs strapped to his saddle, she nodded toward them. “You appear packed and ready to travel, are you not?”
“I am packed and ready, but that isna the point, m’lady.” Graham distinctly heard Duncan chuckling under his breath and promised himself that he’d knock the wee fool on his arse at first opportunity.
“I can live with the lady’s suggestion,” Duncan said with a benevolent look that made Graham want to shove him off his horse even more. “Ole Jock and I didna run all that hard getting here. I believe we’re good for a few more miles today.”
“Ye couldha said that afore,” Graham said.
“Ye didna ask,” Duncan replied with a wide grin.
Duncan was supposed to be an ally not a thorn in his arse. He pulled in a deep breath and released it with a slow controlled hiss. He glanced up at the sky, then turned and studied the buildings lining the far side of the field. The position of the sun on the murky day escaped him, but mayhap he could estimate the time by the length of the shadows. Not only was it well into the afternoon, but an early fog was joining the dense misting rain blanketing everything with a cloying wetness.
Lady Mercy stood there, patiently awaiting his decision, not even blinking as moisture beaded up on her hat’s brim and dripped off in front of her face. She shifted with a quiet sigh and gave him a tremulous smile.
Saints’ bones, how could he refuse her? “Aye.” Graham made a jerking wave toward the caravan of servants, wagons, and horses. “Mount up, the lot of ye. We’ll be on our way.”
“Oh, thank you, Master MacCoinnich!” Her smile no longer tremulous, Lady Mercy fair beamed up at him as she clapped her gloved hands.
“Graham, aye?” he corrected. He’d not let Duncan have the honor of being the only one her ladyship called by their Christian name.
“Yes. I shall strive to remember.” Lady Mercy gave him a genuine smile that stirred him more than it should. “Thank you, Graham. I do appreciate your understanding.”
Time to show the lady he was just as gallant as Duncan. Graham dismounted and held out his hand. “Help you to your horse, m’lady?”
“You are most kind, sir.” She slid her hand into his and permitted him to walk her to her horse.
Rather than allow the muddiness to foil her attempt at the stirrup, Graham took the liberty of setting his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her up into the saddle.
“My goodness!” Her cheeks reddened as she touched his chest.
Graham chuckled to himself. What a delightful sound she made when startled. “Forgive me for taking such liberties, m’lady, but I didna wish ye to slip—not with your wee boot heels so glutted with turf and mud.”
“Uhm… quite all right, Graham. Thank you,” she said in a breathless tone as she maneuvered her skirts and long coat to sit astride without baring her legs above her ankles.
Graham hadn’t a clue how she managed it, but he did know he was disappointed at missing a peek that might reveal more of her legs. He studied her outfit closer. The woman’s skirt and petticoats were paneled, split down the center, and fashioned after a man’s breeches. “I’ll be damned. Your skirts and petticoats are made into trews.”
Lady Mercy’s cheeks glowed even brighter. She briefly bowed her head, taking refuge in the wide brim of her hat.
Remorse filled Graham. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t have blurted out such a personal observation. He took hold of her horse’s reins and prevented her from moving away. “Forgive me,” he said in a low tone meant for her alone. “I’m no’ a gentleman, m’lady, and have never claimed such. I say whatever comes to mind, but please know I’d never shame ye on purpose.” He waited, gritting his tee
th, hoping she’d accept his apology. Damn his thoughtless hide.
She turned in the saddle, glancing back at him, her graceful demeanor seeming somehow saddened. “No offense taken, Graham. You cannot imagine how refreshing I find your honesty.” She settled her damp skirts over her ankles. “And you are quite correct, I had my seamstress alter my clothes for the journey. I thought them more sensible for the trip. Like my cover coat. Don’t you agree?”
A sensible Sassenach and a high born one at that. Admiration for the woman filled him. Mayhap this trip wouldn’t be so wretched after all. “Aye, lass. I agree wholeheartedly.” He turned away, having sense enough to give the lady some privacy after embarrassing her.
He slogged back across the muddy ground to his horse, mounted, then gave Duncan a warning look. “Dinna ye dare say a word about the lass’s clothes or I’ll string ye up by the short hairs of your ballocks. Understand?”
“Aye, brother.” Duncan grinned, a smug, damning grin that threatened to get his arse kicked. “I understand more than ye know.”
Chapter Four
Graham appeared to be a decent man, and his brother seemed the same. Mama would have liked them both—maybe even liked them enough to trust them. Mercy pressed the flat of her hand to her middle. A warm fluttering—a strange excited sensation she’d never experienced before—made her swallow hard and pull in a quick breath. Such feelings would not do at all. She was bound for the abbey. A life of peace and solitude removed from the torture of a prejudiced society and a heartless father’s machinations. Yes. Such a life would be most welcome.
God willing, by way of her own carefully laid out plan and not that of her father’s evil ploy, she would achieve the peace she craved. She snorted out a disgusted huff. She refused to deal with such wickedness. How her father lived with such loathsome tactics was beyond her. Although she knew little of the Highlander, from what she’d observed so far, Graham MacCoinnich possessed more honor in his little finger than her father had ever possessed. A satisfying sense of finality filled her. She would save Graham and his clan from her father’s despicable plot, as well as free herself.
From her horse’s position several yards behind Graham, she studied him with an interest that bordered on rudeness. But she couldn’t help it. The man intrigued her. She’d never met anyone like him. He said what he thought, and his opinions were quite clear. He made no attempt to hide anything. Rare traits in this world, indeed.
Remembered moments from earlier in the day triggered a smile. Graham detested the lieutenant and made his opinion quite obvious by forcing the king’s guard to travel separate from everyone else, bringing up the rear at his appointed station behind the wagons. St. Johns would be lucky if his mount didn’t founder in the muddy ruts and mucked out holes the horses and wagons left in their wake. Incessant rain and the spring thaw made for treacherous traveling through England’s countryside.
Mercy warmed toward Graham even more when she thought back about his treatment of every individual in her circle. He interacted with them as though it was unnecessary to deal with them unless it risked the journey. He didn’t ignore them, he merely allowed them to go about their duties unless their actions somehow endangered them, and then advised her as to how to correct them.
The thought suddenly occurred to her that the only individual to whom he’d given a direct command was the lieutenant. All other orders, he routed through her. She smiled. Did that mean he respected her intellect? Such respect was something she’d not experienced before. A satisfied sigh escaped her as she took in the dreary landscape and soggy surroundings. But she must remember to give him liberty to issue orders directly. After all, he knew the Highlands whereas she did not.
She adjusted her hat to a better angle for deflecting the rain and swiped her damp glove across her even wetter cheek. Respect or not, at present, Graham MacCoinnich was ignoring her. He rode several yards in front of the group with his brother at his side. This observation pricked at her nerves. She made an impatient flicking away of the droplets gathered along her hat’s brim. What an irrational emotion. Why on earth should she expect his attention? Graham would never fawn over a woman. He was a far cry from the shallow courtiers. He was her guide, for heaven’s sake, and under no circumstances should she encourage him to behave otherwise. Both their lives depended on it.
Concentrate on the abbey. That’s what she should do. Mercy sat taller in the saddle, lifting her chin to the proud tilt Mama had taught her to hold no matter her circumstances. She fixed her gaze on the broad backs of the two Scots riding in front of her, and a pang of worry hit her. Personal considerations aside, how could she protect these two men and their families from her father’s hellish plot to execute them?
Graham held up a hand and reined in his horse, bringing the caravan to a stop. He turned and faced Mercy, waiting for her mount to catch up to his.
As her horse plodded closer, Mercy blinked and struggled to control her breathing. How could a man look so…proper words escaped her. Wild? Rugged? Yes. Graham sat his mount like a god-king sitting a prized war horse as he watched over his kingdom. Rain drenched the man to the skin, and yet he looked none the worse for it. His long black hair looked all the blacker, pulled back in a braid that snaked down his back. The rest of them looked like drowned rats, but he looked…undefeatable. Yes. That was it.
He looked strong, courageous, fearless even. She had never seen such a man. An appreciative sigh escaped her. Graham MacCoinnich personified what a real man should be. The excited fluttering in her middle strengthened, threatening to overcome the whole of her body.
“M’lady?”
Dear heavens. What had the man just asked? Mercy edged her horse closer. “Beg pardon, Graham. What did you say?”
Graham gave her a wicked grin. and the glint in his eyes said he was well aware of her scrutiny. “I said we’ll make camp here for the night. With any luck, this weather will pass by morning. Have your men set the tents up beside those pines, aye? Or I can tell them. I wasna certain how ye felt about me ordering about your servants.”
“By all means, issue whatever orders you wish to whomever you wish. I assure you, they will be followed to the letter.” There. She’d remembered to tell him. Now he would know she trusted him without question.
Graham flashed her a wide smile.
Her cheeks warmed, and she pulled in a sharp breath. Perhaps, she could have chosen better wording. That hadn’t sounded at all proper. Her statement almost seemed like an invitation for him to give her orders. She retreated and turned her mount toward the pines. “Do what you will,” she said with a lighthearted wave. Perhaps, it would be best to retreat before she said something else she shouldn’t.
She dismounted beneath the pines, very much aware of Graham’s gaze upon her. She waved over Percy March, the senior driver of the wagons, pulling him away from the job of helping his son, Doughal, and the other two lads, Robbie and Wills, from erecting the tent slated to be her personal shelter.
“Yes, m’lady?” Percy squinted one eye shut against the rain. The gentle misting of earlier in the day had ended. Water fell from the sky in a heavy shower that threatened to become a drowning deluge.
Mercy handed him her reins. “The horses’ tent first, please, Percy, and make haste. If we lose any of the horses to this damp, chill weather, it would end our journey before it’s even started. As soon as we have them in the dry, I’ll see to my own horse.” She turned to the beast and whispered, “Please continue to behave, my friend. There’s a treat for you if you’re sweet. I’m proud of how you’ve behaved with everyone so far.”
The great, black horse nickered in response, then nuzzled his wet nose up under the brim of her hat and gave her an affectionate nudge.
“Horse tent?”
The proximity of Graham’s deep voice startled her. “Why…yes. We’ve brought shelter for the horses. Our journey is set to last weeks, and these horses are accustomed to being stabled.” She rubbed a hand along the black, shining n
ose of her horse. “Ryū is strong and fearless, but I will not have him subjected to such conditions.”
“If that’s no’ the damnedest thing I’ve ever heard.” Graham tossed a hand toward the sky. “’Tis but a bit a rain. They dinna need a tent.” He put two fingers to his mouth and emitted a sharp whistle that split the air. All in the camp froze in place and riveted their attention to him. “Shelter for the women first, then tents for yourselves,” he instructed Percy and Doughal along with Robbie and Wills. He pointed to a line of pines closest to the wagons. “String a rope between those trees and tie the horses there.” He turned back to Mercy. “That’ll be shelter enough for the beasts, I reckon.”
“But the horses—”
“The horses will be fine, and if they canna survive a mild wet night such as this, we’ve no business taking them into the Highlands.” He took a step closer, close enough so she could feel the heat steaming off him. “And ye might consider the same advice for yourself, m’lady. This trip isna for the faint of heart. A traipse about the Highlands is no’ an enjoyable stroll through the sweet shops of London. The Highlands are filled with glorious beauty, but ye’ll find they’re rugged and unrelenting.”
Mercy clenched her gloved hands, fighting against the urge to shake her fist in his face. “Do not judge me as weak or pampered, Master MacCoinnich. You know not of what you speak.” How dare he think her a foolish noble incapable of besting a challenge. Her entire life had been a battle against all who judged her as inferior and waited to see her stumble and fail. “I assure you, I am quite ready for this journey.” The man had no idea how ready. “And my horses will at least be granted blankets from this weather if I have to cover them myself. I shall negotiate no further on the matter.”
Ryū stomped a pace forward toward the Scot, ears flattened and teeth bared as he moved to stand beside Mercy.
The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection Page 58