Highland Angel (21 page)

“They willnae be able to sit at all for a few days after this,” muttered Ian. “Come on, best we get a little closer.”

Payton really hoped he was having a vision brought on by pain and loss of blood. He did not want what he was seeing to be real. The children were not really out there standing around Kirstie like a tiny guard. Unfortunately, there was no denying the very real glint of the sun off the blade of Callum’s knife.

Then he tensed but forced himself not to look around. If the children knew where they were, then so did the adults. The fact that the children had run right into Roderick’s camp with no warning and no pursuit seemed to indicate that Roderick’s perimeter guard had been eliminated, or soon would be. He hoped something happened soon, before any of the children got hurt and before Kirstie lost any more blood.

“What are ye doing here, Callum?” demanded Kirstie, dismayed by the lack of force in her voice.

“Protecting ye,” Callum answered.

Callum gave her one brief, sharp glance that told her he was not telling her everything he wanted to because everyone was listening. A look at Simon gained her the same silent message. The others were out there, but for some reason, the children had eluded their grasp and run to her. It was possible they had simply reacted to the sight of Roderick raising his knife. It was also possible that they had drawn closer than the adults and they had seen no one to help her when she had needed it. Either way, they were now in danger.

“What are these brats doing here?” snapped Roderick.

“Stopping ye from killing our lady,” Callum replied in a hard voice. “And Sir Payton,” he quickly added.

“Robbie,” Kirstie called and smiled weakly when the boy hurried to her side. “Help me sit up. Slowly,” she hissed out when the movement caused her wounded side to punish her with a shaft of excruciating pain. “Do ye have a knife?” she whispered, and
the boy nodded. “Then I want ye to sneak o’er to Sir Payton and help him to get free of those bonds. He is wounded, too, ye ken, so he may need ye to stay beside him in case he needs your help to get out of here.”

“I can do that,” Robbie said, “but ye are badly wounded, too.”

“And have more help right here than I need whilst Sir Payton has none.”

The boy nodded and slipped away. Kirstie noticed that Wattie and Gib had their gazes fixed upon her and relaxed a little. So long as she and the other children held Roderick’s attention, Robbie ought to be able to do as she asked without any danger to himself. She turned her thoughts to a way to keep Roderick’s attention on her and Callum, for if he remained interested, so would Gib and Wattie.

“I dinnae like this,” said Gib.

“Nay, the brats are a nuisance,” agreed Wattie.

“They are more than a nuisance.”

“Do ye think Callum can use that knife, then?”

“Think, Wattie,” Gib ground out between tightly gritted teeth, “Where did the children come from? Why werenae they stopped by Colin or one of the other men? How did they e’en ken where we were?” He nodded when Wattie’s eyes widened and he looked around nervously. “Exactly. The bitch’s allies are out there. Or Payton’s. Not much difference to us. Or Roderick.”

“We should warn Roderick, then.”

“He willnae listen anymore, Wattie, e’en if we could do it quiet-like. And whoe’er is creeping up on us will notice if all three of us just leave. Nay, old Roderick willnae leave. He thinks he can kill them and go to France and live like a laird there. Time to tend to ourselves, lad.”

“Shame about the money.”

“Something tells me there isnae as much in there as we think.”

Wattie nodded. “A trick. Makes sense. Where can we go?”

“Weel,” Gib started inching back, toward the wood and their horses, “I was thinking the borderlands. They are said to be a rough, lawless people there. Go to one of the border clans, like the Armstrongs. ’Tis said they are a hard lot of thieves and murderers. Aye, we will see how they do things.” He looked toward Roderick, who was engaged in a glaring match with Callum. “See ye in hell, Roderick, m’lad.”

Brenda stepped out of the shadows by the big tree her brother Simon had picked for her to hide near. She watched the two men who had hurt Simon disappear into the wood, then spat on the place where they had just been standing. She looked toward her brother, saw him notch his bow, and knowing they would soon go home, she started to amble back to the camp.

Roderick drew his sword and held the tip to Callum’s chest. “It would appear that your dagger is a wee bit short, eh, laddie? The question is, do I kill ye first or my traitorous wife?”

“Roderick, dinnae be a fool,” Kirstie said as she tried to edge herself between her husband and Callum. She could hear Payton cursing and prayed he would not try anything foolish once Robbie got him free. “Ye cannae win this.”

“Nay, probably not, but I can make it cost some people verra dearly.” He turned the sword point on her, smiling faintly at the soft gasp of the children. “I believe I shall take ye to hell with me, m’dear. I wouldnae want to be alone.”

Kirstie could almost feel the tense silence as Roderick started to swing his sword. Then there was the sound of men hurrying through brush and onto open ground. She could hear Payton cry out with a strange mix of fury and denial and some other strong emotion. All that settled in her mind, but made little impression. Her gaze fixed upon Roderick’s sword, she used what little strength she had to shove Callum down onto the ground and held herself as the perfect target above his squirming, cursing little body.

There was a threatening whisper of a sound Kirstie knew she ought to recognize. It passed right by her. Callum suddenly went very still. The swing of the sword halted abruptly and the point of the blade was slowly lowered to the ground. Kirstie looked at Roderick to see what had changed his mind about her execution, and frowned. There appeared to be an arrow sticking out of Roderick’s eye, but Kirstie’s weary, pain-drugged mind was having trouble accepting what her eyes told her. Roderick’s face was frozen in a look of surprise and then he slowly crumbled to the ground. Callum nudging her off him brought her to her senses.

“Simon,” Callum snapped as he stood up and glared at the other boy. “Ye killed him!”

“Aye, I did,” Simon said calmly as he retrieved his arrow and cleaned it off.

“But,
I
wanted to do it. I had a right to do it.”

“He killed my fither. Nay with his own hands, the murdering coward, but he had it done, and all because my fither warned me about what that bastard did to boys.”

Callum frowned a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. But, when did ye learn to use a bow like that and what if ye had missed and hit me or our lady?”

Payton, helped over to sit down next to Kirstie by his brothers, was about to say the same thing, and far less kindly, when Simon quietly replied, “I never miss.”

“Never?”

“Never have, nay with anything I throw either. My fither said I had the finest eye he had e’er kenned. I look at it, stare at it a wee bit, and I can hit it square.” He frowned when Brenda strolled up to his side after nudging her way through the crowd of men. “I told ye to stay hidden ’til it was over.”

“Saw ye aim your arrow and kenned it would be done soon,” Brenda said, smiling faintly when everyone stared at her, for it was the first time she had spoken since coming to live with them. “I saw the men who hurt ye and I spat on the ground where they stood and cursed them with warts and boils.”

“Ye saw them, lass?” asked Payton, slipping his good arm around Kirstie, calmer now that he could see her wounds were painful, but would heal. “They slipped away, aye?”

“Aye,” replied Brenda. “They guessed your men were out there. They decided to go to another place.”

“Did ye hear where that place was?”

Brenda nodded. “The borderlands. They want to go thieving. Said they would go and join up with the Armstrongs.”

“Are ye sure they said the Armstrongs, lass?” Payton asked in a choked voice, fighting not to join in the growing round of laughter amongst the other men, if only because he suspected it would hurt.

“Aye, the Armstrongs. A hard lot of thieves and murderers, Gib said. They willnae be back, will they?”

“Och, nay, lass, they willnae be back.” He laughed, then winced when it hurt his shoulder.

It took Kirstie a moment to figure out why the men were all finding that so amusing, then sighed. “Another cousin, right?” she said and shook her head when he laughed, wincing even as he did so.

His Uncle Eric was right, thought Payton. Waking up to a sword at your throat was not a pleasant experience. Sir Eric loved to jest that there was nothing that could cool a man’s morning ardor faster than finding four armed men encircling the bed. Next time he saw his uncle, Payton was going to have to tell him that seeing eight armed, glowering men was not just chilling—it could probably make a man impotent for a week. Which was a true shame for, after almost a fortnight of lying beside Kirstie, unable to do anything more than hold her close while they both healed from their wounds, he had woken up feeling very ardent indeed and more than able to tend to the matter. He did not think these men would be content to wait an hour or so while he indulged himself. They looked a little too eager to immediately cut him into very small pieces.

After studying the men surrounding his bed, he began to understand why they looked so murderous. Payton had the feeling he was looking at Kirstie’s family. These men had the same black hair, the same handsome features as Eudard, and at least two of them had eyes just like hers. Since one of those was the oldest one amongst the group, Payton suspected that man was her father.

Payton felt Kirstie move against his side and quickly warned her, “We have company, love.”

“Oh, dear.”

Kirstie clutched the bedcovers as tightly as she could to cover herself as she looked at her family. Since Roderick’s death, the guard around Payton’s house had been greatly eased. She deeply regretted that at the moment. She found it a little amusing that they had arranged themselves around the bed in a tidy order from the oldest to the youngest. Then she decided she could not be fully awake yet, for there was nothing amusing about this tense, somewhat dangerous confrontation.

“Good morning, Fither,” she said calmly, then looked around at her brothers. “Ye brought them all.”

“Aye.” Elrick Kinloch looked down at his daughter, his stormy grey eyes narrowed. “We got word that ye had been wounded. Then your wee message appeared saying your husband was dead, ye had been a wee bit wounded but were fine, and that Eudard was here so I shouldnae worry.”

“And, ye shouldnae have worried, Fither. I was weel taken care of.” She grimaced at that poor choice of words when two of her brothers laughed, only to be glared into silence by her father. “Allow me to introduce—”

“Sir Payton Murray. Aye, I have heard of the rutting fool.”

“Ye really shouldnae insult a mon in his own home.”

“I will if he is lying naked in a bed with my only daughter.”

“He was wounded, too,” Kirstie said, pointing to the still-red scar on Payton’s shoulder and the fading marks upon his throat. “It was a verra trying time.”

Elrick sheathed his sword, but his stance remained an aggressive one. “And ye had to comfort each other, did ye?”

“Weel, it was easier for everyone to care for us this way.” It was not working, she mused, studying the angry look upon her father’s face. “Now, I ken ye said ye have heard of Sir Payton Murray, but he doesnae ken who ye are. A mon ought to ken the names of those who invade his home waving swords about, dinnae ye think so? So, Payton, this is my father, Sir Elrick Kinloch, and my brothers Pedair, Steven, Colm, Malcolm, Blair,
Aiden, and Aiken,” she said, pointing to each one lined up around the bed.

“I pray ye will pardon me for nay getting up to greet ye more properly,” drawled Payton.

“Payton,” she whispered when she heard the hint of belligerence in his tone, “didnae ye notice that I was trying to calm my family down?”

“To be honest, love, I couldnae really puzzle out exactly what it was ye were doing.”

She decided to ignore him as he was obviously going to act all manly and aggressive and she already had eight of that breed to deal with. “So, Fither, now that ye all ken each other, perhaps ye could leave us alone for a wee while and—”

“I wouldnae leave ye alone with this fool. Ye have been alone with him too much and look where it has gotten ye. And, I couldnae leave now if I wanted to.”

“Why not?”

“Because someone has a knife stuck in my arse.”

Kirstie sighed. “Callum, these are my father and my brothers. They willnae hurt me.”

Callum peered around the tall, broad-shouldered Elrick. “It wasnae really ye I was worried about. When I saw these men creeping about up here, I moved fast to keep a watch on them. Soon recognized that they were your kinsmen, but kenned they might be a wee bit angry with Sir Payton.”

“Oh, nay,” muttered Eudard as he stepped into the room, his tossled hair and mussed clothing indicating that he had hurried out of his bed.

“Ah, the valiant guardian of his sister’s virtue,” drawled Sir Elrick, glaring at his son.

“I really need to get some sort of secure latch for the door,” murmured Payton, wincing faintly when Kirstie pinched his hip.

“Fither, why dinnae ye come to the great hall with me,” said Eudard. “Alice is setting out food to break your fast.”

“And leave these two alone?”

“They need to, weel, they need some privacy, dinnae they? Ye cannae have a reasonable talk here.”

“Mayhap I dinnae want a reasonable talk. Mayhap I just want to give out a few commands and toss in a few bloodcurdling threats to make sure I am obeyed.”

“Weel, mayhap I want to have a reasonable talk to ye first,” Eudard said through gritted teeth. “I truly need to talk to ye first. Now. Please.”

Sir Elrick sighed. “Fine. First tell the wee lad to get his knife out of my arse.”

“Callum!” Kirstie and Eudard yelled at the same time.

Callum rolled his eyes and sheathed his knife. “Thank ye, Callum, for worrying o’er me and trying to protect my arse from them what would sneak in and try to cut off bits I might sorely miss,” he muttered.

Payton grinned at the boy. “Thank ye, Callum. I most certainly would miss those bits.”

“Ye may still lose them, so ye can swallow that big smile of yours,” growled Elrick. Then he looked at Callum. “Hungry, laddie?”

“Aye,” replied Callum. “Always.”

“Ye do ken that if ye stick a knife in a mon’s arse, ye willnae bring him down,
dinnae ye?”

“Aye, Ian told me. Said it would just make him angry. He showed me the best places to stick a knife, but I didnae think I ought to try to cut the liver out of one of my lady’s kinsmen.”

“Verra thoughtful of ye, lad,” drawled Elrick as the last of his sons left the room and he followed them, Callum at his side.

Kirstie blinked as the door shut behind everyone, leaving her alone with Payton. She had always thought it would be nice if Payton and Callum met her family, but she had never imagined this sort of a meeting. What really troubled her was what was yet to come. She knew her father would be demanding marriage. Instinct told her Payton would feel honor demanded that he comply. Kirstie was not sure she could hold firm against both men and her own foolish desires.

“Payton,” she said, but he was already getting out of bed and disappearing into the small adjoining room where they kept the bath, the chamber pot, and most of their clothes. “Payton!” she called.

“No time to talk now, love,” he called back. “I dinnae think your father will be leaving us alone for too long.”

“I can talk and dress at the same time,” she grumbled as she got out of bed and tugged on her shift.

She turned to go into the little room only to find the door shut. Although Payton was not heavily burdened with a sense of modesty, she knew there were some things even he would wish privacy for. Kirstie sighed and sat down on the bed to wait for him. A few minutes later, he came out, still lacing up his doublet, kissed her on the cheek, and left. She stared at the door, her mind telling her that he had just made a hasty escape, but that made little sense. Then she realized the men would quickly start to discuss her future whether she was there or not, and she hurried to get dressed.

Payton breathed a sigh of relief when Kirstie did not come after him. He then cursed as he made his way to his great hall. All his clever little plans had just been utterly ruined. He had been waiting for them both to heal so that he could propose marriage to Kirstie in a romantic setting, one where, if she hesitated to accept him, he could seduce her into saying aye. Being caught in bed with her by her large, well-armed family would certainly ensure that she married him, but there would be no chance to woo her to the idea, to soothe any doubts or fears she might have.

At the doors to his great hall, Payton hesitated, took several deep breaths to prepare himself for the confrontation he knew awaited him, and stepped into the room. Nine tall, dark Kinlochs turned to stare at him; he beat down a brief urge to turn around and leave, preferably at a very swift pace. He straightened himself and walked to the head of the table, indicating with a wave of his hand that everyone should sit down. For a little while silence reigned as everyone helped themselves to food and drink. Payton used the respite to prepare himself.

“Eudard tells me ye have already told him that ye intend to marry my lass,” Sir Elrick said as he slathered honey on a thick piece of bread. “Said ye told him that when he first arrived and that is why he didnae geld ye.”

“I did say that,” Payton admitted. “I had hoped to present my suit to your daughter within the next few days.”

“Couldnae find the time whilst ye were bedding her for the last month or more?”

“She was still married,” Payton reminded him. “Now that she is a widow, I need nay hesitate.”

“I do thank ye for killing that bastard.”

“I am nay the one to thank. At the time I was tied to a tree, bruised and bleeding. The boy Simon did the deed.”

“Ye prepared him for the slaughter and kept my lass alive whilst ye did so. It might have been better if ye had kept your breeches tightly laced as weel, but that doesnae change the fact that she is alive because ye helped her. ’Tis why I didnae pin ye to that bed with my sword.”

“I commend ye for your show of restraint,” Payton murmured and wondered if that really was laughter he had just briefly glimpsed in the man’s eyes.

“Callum, m’boy, do ye think ye can take my lad Aiken here and find us a priest?”

“Nay, Fither!” cried Kirstie as she entered in time to hear her father’s question. “Ye cannae do this.” She hurried to the table to take a seat on Payton’s right.

“Oh, aye, I can.” Sir Elrick looked at Callum and Aiken. “Go on with ye. She willnae be changing my mind.” He nodded when the pair hurried away, then fixed a stern look upon his daughter. “But ye will try, will ye not?”

“Of course,” Kirstie replied. “’Tis nay as if I was some maid, Fither. I was a wife and am now a widow.”

“And your point is?”

“Weel, ’tisnae uncommon for such women to, weel, frolic a wee bit and no one pays any heed.”

“I do. And we all ken ye were no wife to that piece of filth.”

Kirstie looked at Payton. “Dinnae ye have anything to say?”

Payton shook his head as he spooned some stewed apples over his porridge. “They found us naked in a bed together. I am nay sure there is much one can say.”

He was not going to make even the smallest protest, Kirstie realized. She looked at Ian, who had slipped into the room behind her and taken a seat at the far end of the table. He just smiled. Next she studied the faces of her family, only to find that even Eudard looked stern and unbending. She had no allies. About the only way she could see to put a stop to this was to flee and she knew her father would have planned for that. The moment she had entered the room she had become trapped. It truly would be a waste of time to argue, but she decided to try anyway.

“Fither, ye dinnae need to hold a sword on him,” Kirstie snapped as she knelt beside Payton before a plump, balding priest. “He hasnae made e’en one protest.”

“E’en the best of horses can balk at the last gate,” Sir Elrick said.

“Ah, me, why am I nay surprised by the scene?” drawled a deep voice from the doorway to the great hall.

Payton cursed and looked toward the couple walking over to him. “Hello, Father. Mother.” He introduced everyone, despite still kneeling before the priest, Sir Elrick’s sword at his back. “I suppose Gillyanne wrote to ye.”

“Aye.” Sir Nigel Murray looked at the priest. “Carry on.”

Kirstie stared at Payton’s handsome father and stunningly beautiful mother and felt wretched. They both smiled at her and she managed a weak smile in return. She wondered why they were not trying to stop this, or even asking a few hard questions. Was
she the only one who saw the problems in such a marriage? Everyone else seemed either pleased or determined. She could understand the children being happy about it all, for they were too young to know all that was wrong with being forced to marry someone. It was everyone else’s attitude that confused her, including Payton’s. He did not seem even mildly annoyed over this indignity.

A nudge from Payton turned her attention to the priest. Despite her confusion and doubt, she heard herself dutifully repeat her vows. It startled her when Payton produced the rings required, finely wrought gold bands, one of which fit her perfectly. Why, she thought a little dazedly, would a carefree, licentious rogue have such rings on hand? Did he keep a small chest full of such tokens to give his lovers?

Then it was over. She was married. A widow for barely a fortnight and now a wife again. She thought it very sad that her first husband had married her because she looked like a child and her second husband had married her because he preferred her to a precise and painful gutting by her angry father.

Once on her feet, Payton kissed her. It was no delicate, chaste kiss and she was soon clinging to him. There was no anger in his embrace, just a fierce, possessive ardor. Then Kirstie found herself freed, Payton’s curse still tingling against her lips. When she saw how he rubbed the back of his head and glared at her father, she realized that odd noise she had heard had been her father rapping on Payton’s head with the hilt of his sword.

In the confusion of the hearty congratulations, which she found somewhat misplaced, Kirstie found herself separated from Payton. She finally saw him talking seriously with both her father and his. Certain that the three men were planning her life, she started toward them, only to be brought up short by the grip of a small, delicate but surprisingly strong hand on her arm. She looked into the beautiful green eyes of Lady Gisele and wondered why Payton’s mother was not berating her for forcing her son into marriage.