Choosing the Highlander (16 page)

Passion for policy and public service had been on her list. It was the one area in which she’d found Milt lacking. Whenever she had discussed policy with him, he would steer the conversation back to law. When she suggested doing something about ineffectual laws, he would insist that wasn’t the point. The point to Milt always seemed to be manipulating translations of the law to suit his client’s purpose, not changing laws themselves, not benefiting society at large.

As she rode across the Scottish countryside with Wilhelm, she realized that aside from being born more than five hundred years before her, he was pretty much her perfect man.

Chapter 13

The rain continued throughout the afternoon and into the evening, but Wilhelm had sunshine in his heart as he conversed with his intrepid lady. Though she avoided divulging her clan name and her nationality, she told him stories of her youth. She had grown up in a wealthy family, of that he was cert, since she had been given access to tutors and riding instructors. Her parents had clearly devoted themselves to giving her the best life had to offer.

At least a dozen times, he’d come close to asking those necessary questions that had been plaguing his mind. He must ask them before they reached Inverness, but each time he came close, he curbed the impulse.

She was talking with him. She was laughing with him. Doorways of trust were opening between them. Pressing her would undo that progress.

Besides, he noticed a change in her since leaving the abbey. Before, when she looked at him, her eyes held friendliness and caution, also an unmistakable interest, fragile as a new sprout.

More and more, the caution seemed to be leaving her. That sprout of interest seemed to be growing. Once, he had made her laugh and glanced over to find a secret smile on her lips and her eyelids lowered. Another time, after he told her about his valiant father and beloved mother, her eyes were large and liquid and filled with soft wonder, as if she’d never known a man to openly admire his parents before.

Each new expression of hers filled him with affection. He would be daft to put an end to their easy conversation by becoming the inquisitor again. He wanted nothing more than to nurture her interest in him and welcome its blooming with open arms.

Gentleness with her. Going slowly had worked so far. He had four days of riding and three nights of camping to earn her trust enough that he could show her the sack he’d brought with him, the one that belonged to her.

He would coax answers from her little by little, proving to her each step of the way that nothing she told him would change how he acted toward her. Wherever she was from, whatever trouble she was in—for he was certain she had trouble nipping at her heels—he would not only help, but he would deal with it as with his own trouble.

She was already his. She just didn’t ken it yet. She would. By the time they reached Inverness, his intentions would be clear.

The rain stopped around the time the sun began setting, but the clouds remained. There was so little light after darkness fell, he debated stopping and camping beneath the trees, but if they pressed on two more hours, they would find shelter, complete with a fireplace and a bed for Constance. He, of course, would take the floor.

“How do you fare?” he asked her. “Are ye warm enough?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“A little farther and I’ll see you warmed and fed.”

The sounds of hooves on frozen ground accompanied their climb up to a share lodge he had used many years ago, when traveling to and from university. In remote areas, if one kent where to look, shelters waited for a traveler’s use. Manners dictated that a person leave somat of value to other travelers, such as some freshly-chopped wood or a ration of preserves or a skin of wine. He and Terran, on their journey to gather support for his judicial act, had ridden mostly through populated areas where lodging was easy to come by, but on occasion, they had used share lodges. One evening, they’d lodged with a young couple and their children on their way to a physician for their sick bairn. While Wilhelm enjoyed meeting other travelers, he hoped this night to find their lodging unoccupied.

Finally, the log building came into view. No path led to it, but markings on rocks and trees pointed the way. ’Twas a single room structure, just large enough to accommodate a fireplace and a pallet. Behind, he kent he would find a lean-to where they could store their belongings and mayhap find some hay or grain for the horses.

With relief, he noted the barred window at the top of the door was dark, and the clearing was silent. Solitude with his lady would be his at last.

He brought Justice to a halt and dismounted. The warhorse was well trained and would remain where Wilhelm dropped his reins until he returned. “Good lad.” He praised Justice before taking the reins of Constance’s mount. Not kenning if the gelding would ground tie, he led horse and rider to the rear of the share lodge.

To his dismay, Constance dismounted before he could offer his aid. Her feet hit the ground with barely a sound. If the day’s ride had caused her discomfort, she didn’t show it.

“Go inside,” he told her. “Rest while I tend the horses.”

“I’ll do no such thing.” She immediately lifted the stirrup and began unfastening the girth.

He ought to scold her for disobeying, but he found himself grinning instead. “You are a disagreeable woman, my Constant Rose.”

“Constant Rose?” Humor laced her speech. “That’s some epithet. Maybe I should think of one for you.”

He chuckled as he untied the heavy saddle bags and lifted them down before his lady could do it. “To you I will answer no matter what name ye call me by.”

“You must not find me too disagreeable, then.”

’Twas too dark to see her smile, but he heard it. Even better, by jesting with him, she declared her desire for him. Though he still sensed hesitancy in her, she seemed to grow bolder every hour. Aye, she was slowly accepting what existed between them.

“Speaking of names, have ye thought of one for this lad?” He reached for the saddle and blanket, but Constance beat him to it, hefting them off the gelding and setting them on a log someone had arranged under the lean-to for the purpose.

She straightened and buried her fists in her back, likely working out the aches from riding. Her eyes reflected the meager light as she looked at him. Another of those secret smiles played at her lips. “I was thinking about Honesty.”

Silence filled the air. He’d named his warhorse Justice because acting honorably and justly was of utmost importance to him. He held truth and honesty in high esteem as well, because without them, justice would be impossible. Was honesty important to Constance? He wouldn’t have thought so since she had already attempted to lie to him.

Mayhap her horse’s new name was a sort of peace offering. Mayhap she invited his questions.

“’Tis a fine name.”

Working together, they cared for the horses and stowed their supplies for the night. It didn’t take long for him to start a fire in the small indoor hearth and for Constance to follow his instructions for preparing parritch.

The interior of the share lodge glowed with the fire’s light and soon filled with enough warmth they could remove their outer layers. Peat smoke and the grainy scent of their meal infused the air as they seated themselves on the dirt floor and partook of their late supper.

He’d brought several skins of a spiced wine made by Anselm’s monks, one of which he would leave for a future traveler. When the pot of parritch had cooled enough to wipe it clean, he poured half a skin of the wine inside and replaced it over the fire. The heady aroma of cloves and alcohol wove a spell of peace around him as it heated, and he found he enjoyed the tight quarters of a share lodge much more when his company was so lovely. Not that he minded Terran for a bedmate, but not even kenning he would sleep on the floor tonight could dull his excitement at occupying in the same intimate space as Constance.

Terran had cautioned him she might intend him harm and act upon such intent while he slept, but Terran forgot what a light sleeper he was. Wilhelm doubted Constance bore him any ill will, but if she stole close enough to harm him in the night, he would wake. He would then relish reversing the advantage and pinning her beneath him to deliver punishment of a sensual sort.

So far, he had acted a gentleman with her, but should she prove to be a viper, he would show her that he, too, could strike. He would reward any treachery she might attempt with an assault of passion. He would subdue her with kisses and caresses until she learned beyond any doubt they were not—and never would be—enemies.

His cock stirred at these thoughts and lifted his plaid in a telling fashion. Clearing his throat, he got up to pour the wine into their bowls lest Constance notice his state.

“You told me about your intentions for an act of parliament,” she said when he handed her a steaming bowl.

When he sat again, she scooted close to his side, cupping the bowl between her hands. Leaning against the sleeping pallet, she stretched her stocking feet toward the fire and sipped the wine. A hum of approval accompanied the momentary closing of her eyes.

A pang of desire shot through him.

Would that he could be the cause of her bliss instead of a sip of hot drink. He sipped from his own bowl to ease the tightening in his chest and the renewed stirring of his cock.

“You believe every child of the nobility should obtain an education,” she went on. “And yet you called it a judicial act. Why not call it an education act?”

Wilhelm did not oft speak to women about his political aspirations because he had learned they did not typically take interest in the topic. Constance was different. She’d listened to his ramblings on the matter and had understood enough to ask an astute question. His esteem for her grew. So did his determination to make her his. A woman like Constance could not only serve him as lover and friend, but as adviser as well. Such a treasure she was!

“The proposal is named for its intended result,” he told her, proud to share his ideas with her. “Education for the children of nobles is merely a beginning. The result is that in time, those children will rise to hold positions of power. They will become lairds and earls and stewards of their holdings. They will rule in disputes from large to small, and their judgments will be more consistent and more fair if they have all been educated in the same manner. Stability for our people will come only once a foundation of education is made available to all who may one day rule. You see? Education begets a stronger foundation for justice. That is why I call it a judicial act.”

Constance blinked several times then took a long draught of wine.

“Easy, lass. The monks may serve weak beer, but their wine is strong.”

When she lowered her bowl, her cheeks were flushed with the most delicate shade of rose. How bonny she was with her coppery hair and her eyes of every color. She bit her lip and released it. “You have a passion for justice,” she said. “Is that why you named your horse as you did?”

“Aye.” Her ability to draw such conclusions pleased him. “Tell me,” he said putting his arm along the pallet, circling her shoulders but not touching her. “What prompted the choice of Honesty?”

Constance smiled demurely and leaned into him, inviting him to embrace her fully with his outstretched arm. When he did so, her lashes lowered then lifted, revealing those stunning eyes.
Och,
the firelight made the various hues dance with each shift of her gaze.

“Well,” she said with a mischievous quirk to her mouth. “Where I come from, there is a musician—a bard—named Billy Joel. He sings a ballad by that title. It’s one of my favorite songs.”

So, she’d named the horse after a song sung by another man. This unsettled him.

By the twinkle in her eye, that had been her intention.

Playfulness aside, he sensed she was not telling him the whole truth, ironic given the subject of their discussion. “Is that the only reason you named him Honesty?” He rubbed his thumb over her upper arm, a teasing touch, a testing touch.

“No.” She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, indicating his touch had been well received. “I thought it might be nice for Justice to have a companion named Honesty.”

His heart melted for her.

“And,” she said softly. “I have decided to tell you only the truth from now on. No more lies. But.” She sat straighter and gave him a look of warning. “If you ask me something I don’t want to answer, I’ll say so.”

He coaxed her back into the space between his arm and his side. “So I shall have honesty, but not totality.”

“Correct.”

“I suppose I shall have to accept your terms.” Their banter was light, but he understood it for the delicate dance it was. As he’d suspected earlier, she was inviting him to question her. But there were things she did not feel safe divulging. So be it.

In time, she would come to understand that she could trust him with all of her. Every last secret would be his to protect. Every problem she faced would be his to solve. Until then, he would ask of her only what she could give.

He fingered her hair. It shone with health and was soft as rabbit fur. “Will you tell me this? What is your full name? Who is your father?” Who must he inform of his intention to wed her?

She leaned into his petting like a contented feline, but her voice was steel when she said, “I’m not ready to tell you that.”

That gave him pause. Why would she not wish him to ken the name of her father? Was it someone he’d dealt with? An enemy? Not Ruthven, since she hadn’t known the man’s name until Wilhelm had told it to her.

He tried a different tack. “Very well, lass. Will you answer this? Where is your clan, your home?” It could not be far, because they could understand each other. Were she from as far away as France or the Slavic lands, she would not speak English. Nor would she be familiar enough with the patterns of speech in England to speak it so convincingly. He’d only detected the lie in her dialect due to his truth sense.

“I don’t want to tell you,” she replied, eyes narrowing as if she expected him to argue and was preparing for verbal combat.