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Authors: Hannah Howell

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BOOK: Highland Avenger
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“Aye, there is something ye dinnae ken,” said Sir Fingal. “That fool Lucette sounds a mon who might do all of this just to gain an inheritance. Wheesht, a mon who would kill his own blood, or want to, and then try to beat a wee lass to death will do most anything. There isnae enough there to make that Lord Ignace act this way, though.”
“Nay, there isnae,” agreed Sir Ewan. “Nay sure we will e’er ken what that reason is though, for if these fools attack Scarglas, they will die. Hard to get answers from dead men.”
“I still find it hard to believe that they sunk a ship just to try and kill two boys,” said Fiona.
“That was terrifying,” said Arianna, “and enough to get them hanged. Did Captain Tillet and his men heal?”
“Aye,” replied Fiona, “and they have already sailed for home. Nay certain if anything can or will be done about what happened to his ship, though.”
“I pray he is cautious for, if he points a finger at the DeVeaux with nay more proof than his word against theirs, he could find that his survival is a verra short-lived one.”
“Are they all so truly evil then?”
“Weel, I doubt there are many of that family who dinnae deserve a hanging.”
“Someone needs to cut away the rot like we did to the Grays,” said Sir Fingal.
“Aye, someone should,” Arianna agreed, “but it would take a long time and many a good mon would die in the doing of it. Right now all I care about is killing the ones who want to hurt my boys.”
“They willnae get those laddies. Ye dinnae need to worry on that.”
Arianna smiled at Sir Fingal. The determination weighing each word he said warmed her heart. The slow smile he gave her in return and the look in his eyes made her blush. She could easily see beyond the signs of age to the man who was able to seduce so many women. Then a scowling Mab elbowed him in the ribs and he frowned at his wife.
“Wheesht, Mab, I am truly wedded to ye but I am nay dead,” he said. “E’en with all that bruising on her wee face, she is a bonnie wee lass.” He winked at Arianna. “Pleased to see that my lad isnae as much like Ewan as he was pretending to be.”
Brian blushed, cursed, and ignored Arianna’s look of curiosity to glare at his father. “There was naught wrong with Ewan and ne’er was.”
“The mon was but a vow away from being a cursed monk,” snapped Sir Fingal. “It wasnae monly and ye were near as bad.”
“Da!” Ewan yelled, and slapped his hand on the table, making a sound so sharp and loud it drew the attention of everyone in the great hall. “We have a battle to plan. Ye can discuss Brian’s failings later.”
Brian glared at Ewan. “Thank ye.”
“Nay trouble. Now, Lady Arianna, we have sent word to your kinsmen. My son Ciaran and Kester, a lad from our cousin Liam’s keep, were sent out the moment your lads arrived and told us what was happening. We havenae gotten a reply yet but I expect one to arrive soon. We kenned who of your clan was the closest because Fiona and Liam’s wife, Keira, a cousin of yours, are forever writing to each other.”
Fiona frowned at her husband. “Ye make that sound like some crime.”
Ewan winked at her. “Just nay sure how ye can have so much to say to each other.”
“We both have husbands and children. There is always something to say when a lass has those.”
“She is telling tales about us, Ewan,” said Sir Fingal. “Think ye ought to put a stop to that.”
An argument started between Fiona and Sir Fingal but Arianna’s unease about that rapidly turned to amusement. She could see the glint of amusement in Sir Ewan’s eyes as well. It took only one look at Fiona to see that the woman was heartily enjoying herself. And so, Arianna realized, was Sir Fingal.
The argument soon veered off to one concerning what to do about the army that was being gathered by Amiel and the DeVeaux. Arianna wrestled with a crushing guilt over putting these people into the middle of her fight because she knew she would not change that even if she could. She also knew that Brian and his clan would not change it, either.
Arianna struggled to listen closely, even smiling at Sir Fingal’s insistence that they just ride out and kill the whole lot before they came to Scarglas, but her thoughts began to grow cloudy with exhaustion. It had not been a very long or arduous journey from Dubheidland to Scarglas but the fact that she was still healing from the injuries Amiel had inflicted on her had made it seem so. Her body was demanding more of the rest it needed to finish healing.
Before she could quietly ask to be excused so that she could seek that needed rest, Brian was doing it for her. He then called to a maid to escort her to their bedchamber. Arianna wanted to protest Brian’s arrogance, to remind him that she was a grown woman who needed no nursemaid, but the maid Joan was a big, sturdy woman who quickly, and somewhat forcefully, escorted her out of the great hall. Arianna decided she was just too tired to put up an efficient protest. She would let Brian taste her displeasure over such treatment later, after she had had enough sleep to sharpen her wits as well as her tongue.
 
“Ye are going to pay dearly for that,” said Fiona, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Brian as if he had just called her
wench
, a word that never failed to rouse her temper.
“She was about to fall asleep at the table,” Brian said.
“Doesnae matter. Ye just had her marched out of here as if ye were afraid she would hear all our secrets and then run to our nearest enemy to tell him everything.”
“I didnae.”
“Aye, ye did.”
“Nay, I didnae.”
“Och, aye, ye most certainly did.”
“Sir, is Anna nay weel?” asked Michel as he reached Brian’s side and tugged on his sleeve.
Relieved to escape what had sunk into a rather childish exchange, Brian looked at Michel. “Nay, she is just verra tired.”
“And hurt. I saw the bruises. Did she fall off her horse?”
“Nay, truly, she was just verra tired. ’Tis a verra long ride from Dubheidland to here.”
“Did ye hit her?” demanded Adelar as he stepped up behind Michel, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. “When I saw the bruises I thought it was from the injuries she got when we had to jump from the ship, but then I got to thinking and realized the bruises she has now are too fresh.”
“None of my lads would e’er strike a lass,” snapped Sir Fingal.
Brian held up a hand to silence his family’s outrage and met Adelar’s steady stare. “Nay, I would ne’er strike a lass, especially Arianna. I fear she was briefly a prisoner in your uncle’s hands.” He nodded when both boys winced, revealing that they had tasted some of Lord Amiel Lucette’s cruelty during their short lives. “She is healing nicely but still needs a lot of rest.”
“Aye, I see. Thank ye for saving her, sir.”
Brian watched as Michel and Adelar returned to their table and then he looked at his family. “The reason for all of this lies in just exactly whom those two lads really are.”
“Agreed,” said Ewan, “but wouldnae the lass have told ye if they were more than just the sons of some bastard-born village lass and the laird?”
“They are but wee lads. They may have nay seen the importance of who fathered their mother. Aye, especially when that mother had as little to do with them as possible. They may have also heard how many scoffed at the tales of her birth.”
“Anyone ask them about it?” demanded Sir Fingal, and he grunted in irritation when Brian just stared at him. “Michel and Adelar, do ye ken who your grandsire was?” he yelled at the boys.
“The lord and lady of Champier, the Lucettes,” replied Adelar.
“Nay, I mean your mother’s sire. Did she tell ye who sired her? Did he claim her?”

Maman
said it was the king’s first cousin and that he may nay have openly claimed her, but there was a record of her birth and who sired her. She didnae tell us his name, though.”
The great hall became so silent the boys began to grow nervous. Brian glared at everyone and gave a sharp nod toward the boys, making everyone aware of the effect the silence had on the two children. It was enough to ease some of the tense silence and he watched both boys begin to relax.
“Adelar, does Arianna ken that?” he asked the boy.
“I dinnae think so.
Maman
liked to boast that her papa had given her noble blood, but she told us we must ne’er say whose blood it was. She ne’er did. Weel, she only told Papa.”
“Then we shall continue to hold it secret.”
Both boys nodded and relaxed. Brian wished he could so easily shrug aside the tension gripping him. He talked to the boys while Ewan signaled the children’s nursemaids that it was time for the young ones to go to bed. The moment all of the children were gone from the great hall, Brian finished off his ale and poured himself another full tankard of the strong brew. He was not surprised to look up and find everyone in the great hall now staring at him.
“Weel, I think we ken the reason for the gathering army now,” said Brian.
“They dinnae mean to kill those lads,” said Sir Fingal.
“Lucette does. If he kens this he cannae do anything else for there’s a verra good chance the boy’s grandsire will use the blood connection to grab all Claud left for his grandsons.”
“Lucette will probably be killed by his own allies if he tries.”
“Da, they sunk a ship the lads were on. Doesnae that prove that they want the boys dead?”
“That may have been a hasty judgment. Or, that Lucette did it whilst the others slept. Mark me, if they did try to kill them, now they want the lads for a different reason.” Sir Fingal frowned as he thought it all through. “Or, there is something that noble gave his daughter, something the lads now hold, that those DeVeaux want.”
“And probably havenae let Lucette ken anything about,” Brian murmured, seeing the logic in that.
“It doesnae matter,” said Fiona, drawing everyone’s attention her way. “Two wee lads are in danger. That is all that should concern us. Let us end the threat to them first and then we can talk about what their blood kinship matters. I am nay sure it matters at all anyway.”
“Nay?” Brian grimaced. “Anyone related to a royal is naught but trouble.”
“Those lads are sweet, weel mannered, and show great promise. They are nay trouble.”
“Fiona, I ne’er said they were nay good wee lads. I but wonder on how safe they can e’er be with a blood connection to the king of France. If that first cousin was a favorite of the king ...”
“Oh, hell.”
“Aye. The best we can hope for is that their mother was truly a bastard and nay the child of some secret marriage such as Claud had with Marie Anne, their mother.”
“Oh, hell.”
Brian could not help but fully agree with Fiona’s concise opinion on the matter.
Chapter 17
 
“Those cursed Camerons are here.”
Brian lifted his head from Arianna’s plump breasts and glared at the door. He was pleased to see that his father had gained enough sense not to simply walk in. The man’s timing was still bad, he thought as he met Arianna’s sleepy but shocked gaze. Brian had anticipated waking her with his lovemaking. His father pounding on the bedchamber door and yelling at him had spoiled that.
“Good. We have need of more men,” Brian said, pinning Arianna to the bed when she tried to squirm away. “I will be down to talk to them by the time they have washed and sat for something to eat.”
“So ye mean to leave me to have to see to them? Just as Ewan always does?”
“Aye, just like Ewan.”
He groaned and rested his head against Arianna’s breasts as he listened to his father stomp off, his grumbling about ungrateful sons slowly fading away. Brian suspected Ewan had not appreciated their father banging on his bedchamber door any more than Brian had and probably for the same reason. He looked down at Arianna and kissed each blush-stained cheek.
“Should we nay go and greet them?” she asked, idly trailing her fingers up and down his spine. “They have come to help us fight our enemies, after all.”
“And will be taking some time to wash the dust of travel away first. I intend to properly welcome the new day first.”
“But your father will ken what we have been doing once we join the others.”
“Arianna, ye do ken that ye are fretting about the sensibilities of a mon who has filled this keep near to bursting with bastards and continued to rut with every woman who didnae knock him over until he married our Mab, dinnae ye?”
She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Sir Fingal MacFingal was a very strange man. She would think him a bitter, heartless fool if she had not seen him with the children running all around Scarglas, did not stop to think on how he had gathered all those carelessly bred children of his close to him. From what little she had seen last night, the man was also good to Mab, his wife, in his own peculiar way. Before she could say a word, however, Brian kissed her. Arianna wrapped her body around his and let the hot desire he so easily stirred within her push all thought from her mind.
He made love to her with a fierce greed she reveled in. His every touch, every kiss, fed her need for him until she was just as greedy as he was. Arianna clung to him as he drove them both to passion’s heights, her release so hot and wild, she could do no more than gasp out his name as it tore through her. The way he growled her name as he emptied himself inside her only intensified her pleasure.
Arianna was not certain how long it took her to come back to her full senses, but she did not try to pull away from Brian as she did. His weight on top of her, the warmth of his strong body, and even the lingering scent of their lovemaking filled her with contentment. At that moment she could almost believe that she could hold him this way forever. A banging at the door startled her out of her dreamy lethargy.
“Some of those Murrays are here,” bellowed Sir Fingal through the door. “They want to see the lass. Want me to send them up here?”
Brian found himself abruptly shoved aside. He sat up and caught a brief, delightful, glimpse of Arianna’s tempting backside as she hurried behind the privacy screen in the far corner of the room. Sighing, he climbed out of bed, slung his plaid around himself, and strode to the door, his annoyance with his father growing every step of the way. He flung open the door and glared at his father.
“That isnae amusing, Da,” he snapped.
“Didnae intend it to be,” drawled Sir Fingal. “Thought ye might prefer your old fither disturbing ye again rather than having her kinsmen find ye when they started searching for ye. Suspicion they will be starting to look for her soon.”
Brian cursed and hurried to collect his belongings. He hated the thought of leaving Arianna’s bed but he had no choice. She might enjoy some freedom as a widow, but he doubted that her kinsmen would calmly accept her openly sharing her bedchamber with her lover while they were around.
“Ye are leaving?” asked Arianna as she stepped out from behind the privacy screen still lacing up her gown.
“Ye heard my fither,” he said. “Your kinsmen are here. I dinnae think ye want them to catch us together like this. I need to hie off to my old quarters.”
“Ah, weel, hie away then. At least I dinnae call to have ye dragged away by some burly guard.” She was pleased to see him blush and look uneasy.
The soft snickering coming from just beyond the doorway told Brian that his father was still standing there and listening to every word. “I cannae talk about that now.” He kissed her. “Later, love. We will talk about it all later.”
With a sigh Arianna watched him leave. She wanted to hurl herself on the bed and weep, but forced herself to calmly endure the pain twisting her heart. Brian still had not uttered one word about a possible future for them, of how he felt about her aside from lustful and protective, or even if they would find a way to be together later. This was the beginning of the end of her time with him and, if she did not know her kinsmen would soon be with her, she would be on her knees wailing out her grief. It was too soon for it to end. She had not had the time needed to make him want to keep her.
Suddenly not wanting her kinsmen to come anywhere near the bedchamber she had so briefly shared with Brian, Arianna went in search of them. She was only halfway down the stairs when she heard men arguing. Having a very good idea that her kinsmen were in the middle of that argument, she hurried down the rest of the steps. Shock brought her to a stumbling halt at the bottom of the stairs and she stared at the four men arguing with Sir Fingal.
Her cousins Harcourt and Brett had been strong warriors by the time she had left for France and they were even more so now. Brett was stunningly handsome with his black hair and green eyes, his mother always lamenting his lack of a wife at the grand age of five and thirty. Harcourt had a softer type of handsomeness, the mischief in his amber eyes and the curl in his black hair muting the harsh lines of his face. He, too, was often the subject of complaints by the matriarchs of the family for at three and thirty he was also unwed and was an unrepentant rogue.
It was the sight of the two boys she had often played with at family gatherings that truly held Arianna speechless. They had finished growing. Uven and Callum MacMillan could be twins, and were often mistaken for ones, even though Uven was a full three years younger. The last time she had seen them they had been eighteen and barely twenty, still all arms and legs and youthful bravado and eager to finish their training with the MacMillans. Now they were broad-shouldered, leanly muscled warriors. Their red hair had darkened to a coppery color and their green eyes sparkled with a mature mischief to equal the look in Harcourt’s eyes.
“Weel, cousin, do ye plan to greet us properly or just gape at us?” asked Callum.
Arianna laughed and ran to hug them one after another. She was just hugging Callum, marveling at how strong he was now, when she felt him tense. Looking up at his face and idly wondering when he had gotten so tall, she frowned at the expression there. He looked as if he was readying himself for battle.
“Cousin, why is there one of those MacFingal men looking at me as if he wishes to cut my throat?” Callum asked, his voice pleasant enough except that she recognized the steel behind every word, the tone of a warrior prepared to defend her if Brian turned out to be a threat.
“That be my son Brian,
Sir
Brian,” said Fingal, standing beside Harcourt, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. “He is the one who saved your kinswoman’s wee life.”
There was something about the look in Brian’s eye that had Arianna stepping out of Callum’s arms and hurrying to Brian’s side. She ignored the open curiosity in her cousins’ expressions as she took Brian by the arm and led him over to them. As she introduced them to each other and they shook hands, she tried to ignore the silent contest of who could produce the strongest grip and who could withstand it without any sign of pain that all the men indulged in. Even though she thought it a strange thing for grown men to do, she could not suppress a twinge of pride when Brian obviously won.
She was just about to escort them all into the great hall when her cousins surrounded Brian. Sir Fingal responded to a hard look from Brett by grinning and pointing to a door just down the hall. A moment later her cousins and Brian were gone. Arianna started after them, a little concerned about what her cousins intended to do to Brian. They had not looked as if they intended to share tankards of ale and discuss old battles.
“Nay, lass,” said Sir Fingal. “Ye were nay invited. ’Tis monly talk going on in there. Why dinnae ye go and make certain there is hot water for your kinsmen and beds for them to sleep in. With that horde of Camerons that just arrived, we might be needing a few more pallets made up.”
Sending me off to do women’s work so that the big, strong men can plot how to take care of the poor helpless woman’s trouble and enemies, she thought crossly. “I could be of some help in answering what questions my cousins might have.” Arianna started toward the door again.
“Do ye really wish to hear it all explained again? Hear about what Lucette did to ye, how your mon in France lied to ye and mistreated ye? I would have thought ye fair sick of it by now.”
Arianna turned to look at Sir Fingal. His words had been spoken in his usual grouchy tone but there was sympathy in his eyes. She thought over what he had said and sighed. The very last thing she wanted to do was talk about Claud, the Lucettes, or the DeVeaux again. She did not want to be facing her cousins when they heard all about how Claud had deceived her, either. Arianna had not yet recovered from the humiliation of it all.
“Fine then, I will tend to the beds and baths like a good wee lass,” she said, and ignored the way his lips twitched in an almost smile at her cross words. “If they have anything to ask me they can come and find me.”
“I will be sure to tell them to do just that. Let the lassies in the kitchens know that we will be needing a lot more food.”
By the time Arianna reached the kitchens her annoyance over being excluded from the talks between her cousins and Brian had receded. She knew her cousins were not going to take the news Brian had to tell them very well and she would rather not spend time in a small room with four angry kinsmen and Brian. Arianna just hoped that Brian had the time to tell her what was said before she met with her cousins again. As her father was fond of saying, kenning the facts can keep ye from doing or saying something witless.
 
Brian moved away from Arianna’s four large kinsmen and poured each of them a drink of ale. The barely contained anger of the men made the ledger room feel even smaller than it was. Their impatience to know exactly what danger their kinswoman was in and their suspicions about him were clear to see on their faces.
All their very handsome faces, he thought, with a tug of jealous anger as he served them each a drink. The jealousy he had felt when he had seen Arianna being hugged by young Callum had thoroughly surprised him. He had wanted to tear Callum’s arms off.
“What has happened to Arianna?” demanded Callum as he sat on the edge of Ewan’s large worktable. “The message we got didnae give us many details.”
“Did any of ye ken that her husband had a mistress?” Brian asked instead of answering Callum. “That the two wee lads we need to help are his sons by that woman? Or that he ne’er once turned away from that woman?” He nodded in full agreement with the fury that darkened all their faces.
“She ne’er told anyone in the family,” said Brett. “Such news would have spread swiftly and Claud would have found himself facing some verra angry Murrays.”
“Weel, those Murrays would have been even angrier when they kenned the whole truth,” said Brian, and proceeded to tell them about the false marriage and the way Claud, as well as the rest of his family and retainers, had treated Arianna.
“She should have told us all this!”
“She did, but those letters never left France.”
Callum cursed long and viciously with a style that Brian had to admire. “So Arianna believes that we just didnae care how she was treated, doesnae she?”
“Nay,” replied Brian, and then he shrugged. “Weel, mayhaps she did, now and then. I think she was more puzzled o’er it all than anything else. Then, when we realized that her letters had all been read and the ones the Lucettes thought too damning tossed into the fire, she did feel guilty about her moments of doubt. Howbeit, Claud is dead now, murdered by his own brother.”
“Tell us who threatens her now. We saw what looks to be an army forming but a day’s ride from here. Were those the men doing the hunting that ye mentioned?”
“Aye. Lord Amiel Lucette and Lord Ignace DeVeau. Lord of what, I dinnae ken and dinnae care. There is even a question about which Lord Ignace we have chasing us but I dinnae care about that, either. They want those lads and your cousin.” He told them everything that had happened to Arianna since she had left France, all that they knew about Lucette’s plans, and all that they had surmised. Then he told them what had been discovered about Michel and Adelar, something he had not yet told Arianna.
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