The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Her heart sank. “Then you will be returning soon?”

  He inhaled a deep breath and took his time releasing it. “I dinna know when I will see my home again.”

  “Why?” she asked so softly that she was sure her question was lost on the wind. But he turned his head to look at her.

  “I must stay and hand ye—” He caught himself and grinded his jaw. “—Lismoor over to—”

  “Commander,” she cut him off. Her heart broke. He was going to hand her over. She meant nothing to him. “As I have told you from the beginning, I have no intention of taking a husband. I will lie to your king to keep my home, but I will not take a husband.”

  “Ye will lose Lismoor.”

  She hated him for speaking those words. He’d lied to her, given her false hope. She would not weep over it now. She squared her shoulders and tilted her chin. “I will prepare myself for that.”

  And perhaps he could visit the villagers and tell them one of the Bruce’s dogs would soon be ruling here without her.

  “If I must leave, I will forever hold you responsible for this,” she told him and left the battlements.

  She was a fool! A fool to fall for the man who raided her land and took her home! He’d kissed her and made her feel things…things he knew he would not feel in return.

  It no longer mattered. He wasn’t going to help.

  It was up to her to make certain none of her suitors wanted her.

  She smiled as she tore her golden circlet from her head and tossed it aside, and then she wiped her eyes and headed for her room.

  Cain had never been so miserable in his life. The last two days had been hell. Aleysia avoided him at every turn and when he had seen her, he couldn’t help but notice her unhappiness. All the men had remarked to him on it. They’d also shared their confusion as to why the king would trouble himself in the affairs of a steward’s granddaughter.

  Finally, this evening, he knew it was time to tell them the truth, who she was, and what she had done. It was long overdue. They trusted him and deserved to know why he had lied to them.

  He went to the tower to speak to them alone, without Richard or the castle staff hovering about.

  He sat with them in the gathering hall, watching their familiar faces in the light of the large hearth fire. He knew what to expect from them on the battlefield, and which of his men fought best. And during the many nights when they all slept beneath the stars, he knew which of them cried out in their sleep.

  “At first,” he concluded, “I protected her fer the sake of peace, and because I understood that she had been tryin’ to keep her home, as any of us would have done, and then finally…” He paused. What he was about to say was even more difficult than the previous truths to which he’d admitted to them. “…because, as ye likely already suspect, I have come to care fer her.”

  Father Timothy, William, and Rauf grinned at him, tempting him to smile back. But he continued soberly, “I understand that I broke yer trust, but I couldna turn her over to ye. If any of ye wishes to fight under a different commander, I shall make the request on yer behalf to the king.”

  The men were quiet. Most appeared stunned. A few were angry.

  “She waged war on us,” someone muttered.

  “She fought alone from the trees,” Amish pointed out, shaking his head in astonishment. His eyes opened wider and he stared at Cain when he remembered. “She almost killed ye.”

  “Aye,” Cain agreed with a slow smile aimed at the man who’d fought by his side since the Battle of Loudoun Hill. “Who else can say such a thing, eh, Amish?”

  “No one, Commander,” his second replied. “I admire her fer her bravery.”

  “As do I,” William said boldly, “She shouldna be scorned because we lost men in the fight or because we were bested by a lass.”

  The men all finally agreed. She had won them over with her many rare, if not odd, qualities, her loyalty now that she knew them, and her radiant smile.

  What was Cain to do? Was he willing to defy the king and send her suitors away? Was it too late to stop this madness in his head? He didn’t want to love her. If he did and she was taken from him, he would lose his soul this time.

  “Stay and have a drink with us, Commander,” Amish said and offered him a cup. “’Tis whisky Rauf and Duncan brewed in the kitchen.”

  Cain accepted. He didn’t do too much talking, but he laughed with the men, and he listened and learned more intimate things about them.

  For instance, William found no interest in the bonny Matilda when her name was brought up. The lad was miserable. His heart was lost to Julianna Feathers.

  Love made men weak and Cain had made certain his whole life that he would never be weak again.

  “What will ye do aboot her, Son?” Father Timothy asked quietly, sitting beside him. “The suitors will be arrivin’ soon.”

  What could he do? Prepare for the day when she would be out of his life for good? Or prepare for war? One scared the hell out of him. One did not.

  The suitors began arriving early on the third day. Dressed in their fine wool tunics, fur-lined mantles, and brightly colored hose, they paraded through the front doors like a plague set loose on Lismoor. Bearing gifts of silks and spices and other nonsense, they waited patiently with Richard and Father Timothy in the great hall while Aleysia prepared herself to meet them. Cain’s men guarded the entrances.

  Two cushioned chairs, one a bit larger than the other, had been dragged from the other rooms and placed at the head table in the center of the hall. Cain sat in the larger chair.

  He didn’t know what to expect when she arrived. Hell, she could have done anything if she had put her mind to it. He looked into the cup he was holding and put it down without taking a drink. She could have one or more of her handy little daggers hidden wherever the hell she’d hidden them. He would stop her if he had to. If anyone was going to kill any of her suitors, it was going to be him.

  Cain eyed them, hating them all, hating being this close to them. The more they looked at him, sniveling little peacocks that they were, the more he thought about killing them.

  When the guests stood, Cain knew she had finally entered. He didn’t have to turn around. He knew she was breathtaking.

  When those closest to the entrance stepped back and whispered, Cain finally turned to see what they were seeing.

  She wore a plain brown tunic, belted at the waist, and black breeches. Her beautiful raven hair was pulled back in an unkempt tail trailing down her back. Her face, including her lips, was pale, ashen white, and around her eyes were dark circles.

  She looked deathly ill. She even coughed into her hand.

  Cain hurried toward her. “What ails ye, lass?”

  She stepped around him without acknowledging him and sat in his slightly larger chair. “Let us get this over with,” she barked out and then yawned.

  “Lady,” one of the peacocks addressed her, looking a bit confused. Cain kept his eye on him while he sat in her chair. “Are you ill? Is it something that should concern us?”

  She opened her eyes and glared at him. “What kind of men does the King of Scots send to court me that they fear a harmless…” She paused and looked off to the left. “…at least I think ’tis harmless, condition?”

  Cain realized what she was doing and couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t ill, or even pale. She was wearing some kind of powder on her face and her lips. ’Twas clever.

  “Ye didna cough up blood again this morn, did ye?” he asked, wanting to help her.

  She swung her head around to squint her eyes at him and held her thumb and index finger a bit apart.

  She severed their gaze, though he sought to hold it. What did he want to tell her? Something! He liked being around her more than anyone else he had been near in a very long time. He thought she was the bonniest lass he’d ever come across, even looking like death was at her door. Would this work? What would Robert do if no one wanted to wed her? What if he wed her?

>   The thought rushed through his mind before he could stop it. He looked away and scowled at the men looking at her.

  She didn’t want to marry, and she sure as hell wouldn’t want the Highland commander who took her home from her.

  “I do not care if you are ill!” Some about-to-be dead peacock called out.

  “Oh?” Aleysia said and coughed into a small cloth she pulled from her belt.

  “I am Sir James Woods, Governor of Bamburgh.” He stepped forward in his wrapped hood and presented thin, outstretched arms. He looked to be at least twenty years older than her. “I have brought you some perfume from France and fine silk from the Far East. I have much more to offer once we are wed.”

  Cain wanted to spring from his chair and tear out Sir James Woods’ heart from his chest.

  “I do not fear if you are ill, my dear lady,” Woods continued, oblivious to the rumbling mountain beside her. “I see the strength in your eyes to recover. I would be a fool to leave once I laid eyes on you.”

  She smiled behind her cloth and coughed again, then leaned forward for Cain’s cup. After a long sip, she leaned back and swiped her knuckles across her mouth, smearing off some of the powder from her lips. “Thank you, Sir James, you may—”

  “Look at that!” he smiled, showing a row of yellowing teeth. “You are looking better already! Why, your lips are like ripe—”

  “Governor Woods,” Cain cut him off with a warning glare. “Take yer bow and move on. The lady has more suitors to greet.”

  He didn’t want to go. Cain could see it in his eyes. He wanted to stand up to the primitive-looking Highlander who’d taken this castle and a dozen before it, but he didn’t.

  The next worm to step forward was Sir Andrew something-or-other from Doddington. He was tall and thin with timid eyes and a sharp nose. “Commander MacPherson, thank you for inviting us into Lismoor to—”

  “Why are you thanking him when ’tis my castle?” Aleysia asked with icy contempt. “You are not off to a grand start, Sir Andrew.” She waved him away. “Who is next?”

  Confident that none of these peacocks could win Aleysia’s heart, Cain smiled as more English noblemen from everywhere in Northumberland came forward. He even recognized some of the faces from various castles he’d stormed.

  He listened while she methodically discouraged every suitor, either with her fits of coughing or her sharp tongue. So many times, he wanted to smile at her, proud of her courage and determination to avoid what she didn’t want. But she barely spared him a look the entire morning.

  When the last courter of the morning left, Cain finally turned to her. “Ye were a nightmare.”

  She finally smiled at him and it felt as if he could breathe again. He hated that she held such command over his moods, but he didn’t know how to stop it.

  “Do you think I frightened any of them away?”

  “All of them, no doubt.”

  “Good,” she said and stood from his chair. “Well, ’twas nice seeing you—everyone today.”

  Hell, what was this warmth seeping into his muscles, his bones, his gaze? It made him ache to hold her, kiss her, tell her…what? What could he offer her? There were days he felt like a tortured soul in a living grave. Days he prayed to Father Timothy’s God to let him die on the battlefield so that he could have this peace he’d heard so much about. But he lived. Every time.

  He watched her turn to leave. He reached out. “Aleysia.” His voice stopped her. She turned her pale face to him.

  I must help ye find her first. Father Timothy’s words at Bannockburn came rushing back at him. Something to do with love.

  He swallowed and his heartbeat accelerated. He looked toward Heaven. He didn’t want love in his life. He couldn’t love her and watch her marry someone else, or watch her give away her home because of him. He couldn’t stop any of it without betraying the king. “There is nothin’ I can do, lass.”

  “You mean, there is nothing you will do,” she accused him and left the hall.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Aleysia stood on the battlements and watched Cainnech leave the castle. She let her tears fall freely, leaving streaks down her powdered face. She deserved this misery for losing her heart to a Scot.

  Still, as infuriating as Cainnech was, she would rather spend the day—or the night with him than any of those noblemen. She’d almost fallen asleep twice. In fact, she believed she had taken a short nap when Lord Kendrick of Brampton went on about his lavish home and all of his riches. He may have said something about liking beautiful things and her fitting right in. Or she may have dreamed it. Either way, she didn’t like him. She didn’t like any of them. She made a note to tell Rauf and the men all about Lord Kendrick’s lavish home.

  Why couldn’t the man seeking her hand, pledging his life to her and her happiness, be the man who was letting her go?

  She would like to run away as well. But she had people depending on her. What was she to do? If Cainnech was leaving, and the Bruce took over her land, who would look after everyone? Shouldn’t she be at least trying to discover which of her suitors would treat her friends the best?

  She closed her eyes and said a prayer. She didn’t want to marry any one of those men. They cowered to her, and if not to her, then to Cainnech. They looked like pretty little flowers all lined up in a row, ready for the picking.

  “My dear?”

  She startled at the sound of Father Timothy’s satiny voice behind her. She wiped her eyes quickly and tried to steady her voice. “Forgive me, Father, I did not hear you,” she said without turning around.

  “That’s quite all right. Here now.” He put his hand on her arm and gently urged her to turn. “Why d’ye not come sit down and tell my why ye weep.”

  “I should confess first,” she said, sliding down the short wall and sitting on the cold ground.

  “If ye wish.” He looked down at her and then at the small bench a few feet away. Finally, he shrugged and bent to sit beside her. When his knees popped, she looked at him and he smiled sheepishly.

  Oh, what was happening to her? She was beginning to love Father Timothy…and William. All of them!

  When she felt her eyes begin to burn again, she refused to weep or beg him not to go. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but she wanted to confess just in case.

  “I thought about killing today,” she began, and then stopped again. “In truth, I have thought about it often. Ever since Cainnech arrived. I do not know if he has told you, but I took a dagger to him many times. Father, I do not see the humor in this.”

  “Fergive me, child,” he said, his smile not altogether fading. “Go on. Who did ye think aboot killin’ today?”

  “Oh,” she threw up her hands. “I do not remember his name. They all looked the same, spoke the same, smelled the same. I thought I was dying, and there are still more arriving for me to see this afternoon! Father!”

  He covered his smile with his hand and gave her an apologetic look.

  “Cainnech was the only thing that made it bearable,” she confessed. “Every time I think about someone else kissing me, it makes me want to weep.” She swiped a blasted tear away from her eye but another one fell in its place. “He has done something to me, made me feel things I thought I would never feel—like loving the man who took my home and then left me to the whims of his king—Father Timothy, if you are going to continue to smile at everything I say, I will no longer say anything at all.”

  “My dear, ye love him.”

  What? No. That wasn’t what she said. Was it? She nodded and gave up wiping her eyes. “Aye. Aye, I love him. I confess the treachery of my heart for it. I am sorry for those I have betrayed because of it. But if I must share my days and nights with someone, I would prefer it be him. But I fear I cannot break through to him. He runs from me over and over again, even though I do not think he wants to. He will never love me.”

  He took both her hands in his. “Oh, but ye are incorrect, my dear lass. That is why he is mor
e afraid now than before. Ye have made him speak things I never thought I would hear him say. That is why he is runnin’. Nae.” He stopped and put his hand to his mouth. “I shouldna be tellin’ ye any of this. ’Tis not my place to—”

  “Father!” She almost pinched him. “You must tell me everything!”

  He thought about it for a moment and then looked into her pleading eyes. “All right, but I dinna know much.”

  She groaned impatiently.

  He cast her a furtive smile and looked around, making certain they were alone. “He cares fer ye, lass. He has admitted to it, even to the men.” He paused when her eyes widened with surprise.

  “When did he tell the men? And what exactly did he tell them?”

  “Last night. He said he protected ye from them because he cares fer ye.”

  Her heart quickened and her belly knotted and made her feel queasy. “Father, why was he telling the men that he protected me from them?”

  The priest didn’t have to say anything else. His large, fretful eyes spoke for him.

  “He told them?” she asked, wanting to run and never face any of them again.

  “He had no other choice, lass. Their suspicions grew when the king involved himself in yer future.”

  She nodded, understanding, but—“They hate me.”

  “They admire ye,” he corrected. “Ye were ready to die fer yer home.”

  She lowered her gaze. “How can they forget what I did in the forest?”

  “There are some who understand the necessity fer battle, great or small. Some who admire the courage to see it through. Those are the men who already care fer ye.” He smiled and, for a moment, she believed that all would be well.

  “But the difficult part now lies before ye.”

  “This has not been the difficult part?” she asked softly, holding her hands to her chest.

  “Nae. Gettin’ Cainnech to tell ye…and himself, how he feels will be the hardest. But ye must or I fear he will go, and then there will be nothin’ left to salvage.”