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Authors: Hannah Howell

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BOOK: Highland Avenger
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Turning to join her by the fire, he hesitated after only one step in her direction. She was busily using her fingers to comb out her hair, pausing now and then to gently untangle a stubborn knot or tend to the meal. Hints of red were revealed by the light of the fire, enlivening the thick mass of honey-gold hair that was so long it pooled a little on the ground by her slim hips. His fingers itched to take over the chore of untangling it.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It eased the worst of a sudden fierce attack of lust but the sharp bite of hunger lingered. Something about the delicate Lady Arianna severed his control over his lusts, a control he had long prided himself on. From the time he had first looked into her soft golden eyes he had guessed that she could be trouble, but he had not truly considered just how great a temptation she could be to him. It could prove to be a very long journey ahead.
For a moment he considered seducing her. She was no maid, but a widow. Many men considered widows fair game. Then Brian grimaced. That was the reckless MacFingal part of him whispering in his ear. From what Lady Arianna had told him, she had little cause to trust men. Seducing her would certainly not aid her in trusting him.
“That smells verra fine, lass,” he said as he moved to sit down next to her.
She tensed and he fought the urge to shift farther away from her. It might have been better if he had sat across the fire from her but he had not wished to stare into those captivating eyes of hers as he tried to eat his meal. Brian told himself it was best if he did not coddle her unease, either, for she had to depend upon him until she was safe with her family. He was not surprised when a little voice in his head scoffed at that excuse. It was a paltry one.
“I mixed some leeks ye had with the stale bread and a piece of rather old cheese. ’Tis naught,” she said, trying not to be too pleased by his compliment. “Thought we ought to have more than just the meat.” She cast a glance at his pack of supplies. “Ye carry a goodly store of food.”
“Aye. I dinnae like to go hungry.”
“Few do.”
The fleeting, shy smile she gave him tightened his insides with the desire he was doing such a poor job of banishing. It was a puzzle that he felt any desire at all. Although she looked a lot better than she had when they had entered the cave, she was still all bruised and scratched. Her full lips were dried and cracked by the harsh salty water of the ocean and did not look all that kissable. Her injuries did not dim the beauty of her lithe, shapely form, however, or the glory of her long hair. There was no hiding the beauty of her eyes, either.
“Tell me all ye ken about the ones hunting ye and the lads,” he said in an abrupt attempt to turn his wandering thoughts to something other than all the reasons he wanted her.
Arianna served him some food as she said, “I have told ye most of it. I truly believe that Amiel killed his brother and his true wife or ordered the killing done. He may have kenned the truth about Claud and Marie Anne even though the rest of the family didnae learn of it until shortly after the bodies were found, may have e’en hoped killing them both would keep that secret hidden forever. But Claud left a letter explaining how the boys were nay the bastards everyone thought them but his true heirs.”
She shook her head and helped herself to some food. “I learned shortly after wedding Claud that his branch of the Lucette tree was, weel, verra blood proud. They were nay too certain I was their equal but they badly wished to have my dowry and the tie to my clan for it would ensure that the land they held in Scotland would be weel protected. The news that their eldest son, the heir to all titles and lands, had actually married a common wench, as they called her, appalled them. What little toleration they had shown toward Michel and Adelar faded away in a winking. They immediately set about the expensive and tedious chore of getting Claud’s marriage annulled.”
“But what of you? Did they nay care that they exposed ye to unwarranted shame and embarrassment?”
“Nay. They had already marked me as an utter failure as a wife for I lost the only child I conceived ere we barely kenned I was carrying one and I couldnae keep my husband away from his mistress.” She shrugged. “They didnae ken that I had already learned the truth and was planning a way to get free of the mire I found myself trapped in. All that kept me from leaving the moment I discovered the truth about the boys, about Claud’s lies, was that I wanted to find a way that saved us all, especially the boys, from gossip and the hurt it can bring.”
“The boys all thought were your husband’s bastards.”
“Aye. I was given the care and training of them from the verra beginning. Michel was little more than a bairn. Marie Anne didnae appear to care much for them for she rarely visited them or took them to the bonnie wee cottage Claud bought for her.
“But none of that matters. Amiel is all that concerns me now. He doesnae want to wait until his family gets Claud’s marriage to Marie Anne annulled, or, mayhaps, he doesnae want to lose the money it will cost to see it done. From the moment Claud’s confession was read, Amiel began to plot to kill his own nephews. I truly dinnae think he kenned that Claud had left a confession but it meant he then needed to be rid of the boys, too, before he could grab what he coveted. He e’en joined hands with the DeVeaux to get it.”
The way she nearly spat out that name told Brian all he needed to know. “An old enemy.”
“Verra old and with a lot of Lucette blood on their hands. Matters between the Lucettes and DeVeaux had grown so deadly and dire that the king himself stepped in and forced them into a truce, promising some verra hard, and costly, punishments if the truce was broken.”
“It didnae bring any true peace though, did it?”
“Nay, it just made the DeVeaux grow more secretive in their crimes against the Lucettes and the Lucettes even more subtle in their vengeance. I doubt any of them even recall what started the hatred or who; they just cling to it and make a habit of the old war. Amiel may have convinced people he had the right to kill Claud and Marie Anne because of the shame Claud had brought upon the family name, but not one of his clan will e’er forgive him for dealing with the DeVeaux.”
Brian nodded; fully understanding that, for his family had suffered such a feud until recently. His family had not known peace for long and there had been one clan, the Grays, who had held to the old feud with a deadly tenacity. This tale held all the needed insults and pride that could end with the Murrays and the Lucettes locked in a feud, especially if Arianna’s family discovered the full truth about how the family had treated her.
“What do the DeVeaux want?”
“Aside from simply getting some pleasure out of causing trouble for the Lucettes, I have no idea. I have e’en wondered if Amiel owed them something, some debt. Claud once told me that he held a wee bit of land the DeVeaux badly wanted, something he found greatly amusing. Amiel might have promised them that land in exchange for their aid.” She laughed, a short, harsh sound holding little humor. “He may have e’en promised them me.”
“Why would the DeVeaux want you?”
“My kinsmen tangled with the DeVeaux twice in the past and won each time, even gaining some land and coin from the family. All unforgivable sins in the eyes of the DeVeaux. From the moment I stepped upon French soil they kenned who I was and I ken weel that they watched me. The few times I traveled anywhere outside the Lucette lands I was verra careful, and made sure I was weel guarded.” She quickly covered her mouth with her hand as a powerful need to yawn overtook her. “Pardon.”
“Wheesht, we stopped because we needed to rest; ye far more than I. Yet here I am making ye answer question after question. Stay,” he ordered as he stood up to fetch some blankets.
Arianna gave in to the urge to watch him this time. He moved with an easy grace, one that hinted at the strength and agility held in his tall, lean body. He was, she decided, a pure pleasure to watch. She wryly thought that he probably had to beat the lasses away with a stick. And, from what she was beginning to recall about the MacFingals, she doubted he bothered. The old laird, Sir Brian’s father, had bred himself a small army of bastards and rumor implied that the sons, legitimate and illegitimate alike, were just as profligate. This was not a man she should be sighing after, she told herself firmly. If she ever dared to soften toward any man ever again, she would be certain he understood that she demanded constancy. It was often said that the MacFingal men were incapable of it.
Brian gently pushed her aside when she reached for the blankets he had brought her. “Ye need to rest, m’lady,” he said as he made them each a very rough bed with the blankets. “It is important that ye regain your strength as quickly as possible.” He frowned when he saw that she had put away the remains of their meal while he had spread out the blankets and he pointed at the crude bed he had made for her. “Sleep.”
She rolled her eyes and moved to the blanket spread over the hard floor. The two meager beds he had made were set very close to each other but she decided she would say nothing. Instinct told her that this was not a man who would force himself upon her. She did not ignore the possibility that he might attempt a seduction since she was a widow and close at hand, but Arianna was not worried about succumbing. If she was foolish enough to do so, however, she was no maid who could be forced into marriage to save the family honor. She was a widow of three and twenty.
The hard floor was not softened much by the blanket he had spread out for her. Arianna struggled to hide a wince as she settled herself down and pulled the second blanket he had left for her over herself. Despite the weariness that pulled at her mind and body, she stared wide-eyed at the flickering light of the fire dancing over the ceiling of their little cave. This was the first night in years that she could recall not bidding good sleep to her boys. Her arms ached to pull them close for that last kiss of the day.
Arianna knew that the Lucettes had thought her acceptance of the boys very odd, even considered it proof that she was not good enough for their son and heir. It had not really troubled her. From the moment the boys had been given into her care, she had loved them. The fact that she had suffered no jealousy over Marie Anne being their mother, over the fact that her new husband had a somewhat sordid past, should have told her a lot about her feelings concerning her husband and marriage, but she had ignored the whispers of caution that had slipped through her mind every so often.
What she had never been able to accept, or forgive, was how thoroughly the boys’ parents had ignored their sons. Claud’s family barely stopped themselves from spitting on the children in their disgust that their precious heir would sully himself with some common wench. But this did not seem as great a crime as the way Claud paid no heed at all to his own children. Her boys had been set aside or scorned by every person who should have cared for them. Arianna could not bear it if the boys thought she, too, had deserted them.
“Michel and Adelar will be safe, will they nay?” she asked softly as she listened to Brian settle down between his own blankets.
Brian could hear the fear she held for those children in her voice. He had to clench his hands into tight fists to resist the need to reach out for her, to comfort her. Her love for her false husband’s bastards was something he could only admire.
“My kin will protect them with their own lives,” he said. “As will my whole clan.”
The words carried the force of a blood vow. Arianna knew her ability to trust had been badly damaged by Claud’s deceit. Yet, she trusted in the words Brian uttered, the promise to keep her boys safe weighting every word.
“We are a false trail,” she whispered, suddenly fully understanding his plan.
“Aye, and my dearest hope is that your enemy sends most of his men after us. We will lead them straight to their deaths.”
Chapter 4
 
After making certain Sir Brian had left, Arianna groaned softly and rubbed her aching backside. Aside from a few fading bruises and the ugly remnants of some of the deeper scratches, she was fully recovered from her ordeal in the water. Since it had only been three days, she realized she had not been as injured as she had first believed. Spending three days in the saddle had left her with many a new ache, however.
She had not worried much about the riding for she often rode and had done so since she had been a small child. The aching in her backside and thighs told her that regularly meandering around her family’s and then her husband’s lands on a placid mare was a far cry from the riding she was doing now. Arianna hoped she toughened up soon even though she was not sure that a lady should want such a thing. Her husband had certainly made enough cutting remarks about how often she rode to make her believe men did not want their women to be toughened, either.
“But then he was ne’er truly my husband,” she said as she moved to rub down her horse.
Her steps faltered a little when Arianna realized that the hurt and shame she usually felt upon confronting that harsh, ugly truth had eased. In the months since Claud had died and everyone had discovered the truth she herself had only just uncovered, the sting of the shame that had so crippled her had weakened. Anger, however, still flared hot whenever she thought on the matter.
“And I have every right to be furious,” she told the horses as she moved to rub down the packhorse. “That cowardly bastard Claud used me, lied to me, and betrayed me and my clan. I wasnae his wife; I was his unwilling mistress. Aye, and he and his cursed family stole from us for they took my dowry and have ne’er offered to repay it despite the fact that I was ne’er married to their wretched son. And did his family e’er apologize for what was done to me? Nay!”
Warmed by her anger, she did not even try to push it aside as she had been doing for far too long. Arianna gave each of the horses a pat on the flank and then moved to gather wood for a fire. She had carried the weight of her false marriage and Claud’s betrayal on her shoulders for long enough. She had also accepted the increasing derision and disregard of Claud’s close family, wondering if they were right to think she was to blame in some way for their heir’s folly in staying married to some woman they thought so far beneath him.
Her family would be utterly stunned by her forbearance. Arianna knew better. It had not been forbearance; it had been utter defeat and shame that had kept her so cowed that she did not even defend herself. Those weakening emotions had begun to possess her from the moment she had discovered that her new husband, the man she had thought she could build a strong marriage with, perhaps even a loving one, had a mistress.
That still stung. Arianna had wanted to experience that passion the women of her clan so loved to talk about. It was one reason she had married Claud even though it had meant she had to leave her home. He had seemed so kind, gentle, charming, and sweet. She had believed he would show her that passion. The few kisses they had shared before their marriage had hinted at it.
However, she had experienced nothing but discomfort and coldness in his arms. No fire, no tenderness, no secret whispers in the night. His kisses had been a lie. In truth, everything about Claud had been a lie. Claud had been cold and critical, always critical, from the moment the marriage had been consummated. When she had gotten with child and Claud had insisted upon leaving her bed, she had been relieved, only to suffer a crushing guilt for feeling that way.
Setting down the wood she had found, she began to build a fire as that thought reminded her of the child she had lost. Grief for the loss of the child she had wanted so badly, for the loss of that barely begun life, still cast a shadow over her heart. She had learned all about the healing arts, as was tradition for the women in her clan, and knew it was but nature’s way, that there was a good chance there had been something wrong, that her husband’s seed had not rooted correctly. Her mind accepted that but her heart still mourned. She could not completely shake free of the fear that something was wrong with her. After all, her husband had returned to her bed to try again, though not very often and with little enthusiasm, for almost a year, but she had not conceived again. Considering the fertility of the women in her family, that did not seem right to her. She also had to wonder how it was he could give Marie Anne two strong, healthy boys, yet give her no child at all.
“And once I discovered him with Marie Anne,” she muttered, hesitated as a wide variety of bloodthirsty plans for her late husband’s punishment went through her mind, and then shook her head, still embarrassed by how she had instead tried to lure him back to her bed. “I but thank God that madness didnae last long.”
Annoyed by how her mind wanted to torment her with memories of her marriage, her humiliation, and her loss, Arianna concentrated on cutting up what was left of the last rabbit Sir Brian had caught. Tired of simply gnawing on rabbit cooked on a spit, she decided she was going to make a stew. It would still be yet another meal of rabbit but it might taste a little different, especially with what she added from the supply pack.
“And how that mon keeps that pack so full all the time is a true mystery,” she said, and shook her head again. Sir Brian MacFingal certainly had a gift for foraging.
Determined not to be afraid as she waited for Sir Brian to return, she worked to make as tasty a stew as possible. It was not easy to ignore all the noises in the wood surrounding her, but she found some comfort for her fear in the calm of the horses. The animals would warn her if danger drew near.
She also tried hard not to worry about Sir Brian. The man knew a lot about surviving and hunting, she reminded herself. He had proved that admirably over the last three days. He had also shown that he knew the art of slipping through village and forest silently and unseen. Her curiosity about that skill had her biting her tongue against asking how he had acquired it. Arianna was not all that sure she wanted an answer to that question.
Glancing at the dark wood surrounding her, she wrapped her arms around her body and prayed he would not take too much longer to reconnoiter the area. There was a lot of danger in trying to hunt down the enemy and see what they were doing. Arianna could only pray that Sir Brian continued to be as good at sneaking around as he had proven to be thus far. The mere thought of losing him made her insides clench with terror and her blood run cold. She told herself it was just because she would then be alone with no one to help her fight her enemies but a little voice in her head whispered that she was lying to herself. An attempt to shut that voice up by admitting that she would not like to see a good man hurt, or worse, while fighting for her did not work either, but Arianna did not want to think much on why that was.
“He will be back soon,” she said, and looked at the horses as if they should nod in agreement with her. “He will.” She knew that if he did not return, she would not be able to stop herself from hunting for him, and that terrified her.
Brian paused just inside the trees, stroking the neck of his mount to ensure that the animal remained silent. He hated leaving Arianna all alone but it was important to keep a close eye on the enemy tracking them down. Unlike them, he could move more quickly and easily through the countryside for he knew it well. He also knew exactly where to position himself to watch the little village below without being seen, and what he saw now made him relax a little.
The men who had been following them were obviously going to settle in the village for the night. There was no doubt in his mind that the men he now watched were Arianna’s hunters for they were certainly not his countrymen. There was no real need to hear them speak, either. The clothes told him what he needed to know. After working with Captain Tillet for so long, he now knew what they wore in France—something he had never imagined might prove very useful aside from helping him to decide what goods he wanted brought in.
He dismounted, secured his mount, and began to creep down the hill. Brian needed to get closer, needed to try and hear what the men were talking about. What he most hoped to learn was whether or not the men knew what direction he and Arianna were headed in. It also would not hurt to get a closer look at a few of them, he mused.
By the time he reached the inn, the men were inside. Brian hesitated, realized none of these men knew what he looked like, and slipped inside. Moving to a shadowed corner, he sat on a bench. One of the serving maids quickly appeared and he paid her for a tankard of ale. It gave him something to hide behind as he watched the ones who were so anxious to kill two children they would ride around a country they did not know just to find them. Brian wondered what tale they told when they tried to get information.
One of the men acted as if he was the leader, although the men with him showed him only grudging respect, and little of that. Brian wondered if the man was the Amiel Arianna spoke of for he could not believe the men would be so carelessly disrespectful of a DeVeaux, not if even half of what Arianna had told her about that family was true. If it was Amiel, Brian then wondered just how closely the man resembled the brother he had killed. He could see little about the man—who wore clothes more suited to a court appearance than to riding around a rough countryside—that would make one think him a man capable of killing his own brother, or hunting down his own nephews for the slaughter.
“I will pay for three rooms and the stabling of our horses,” the man Brian thought was Lucette snapped. “I will take one of the rooms and the rest of you can decide who will sleep inside the inn and who will sleep in the stables with the horses.”
“My lord,” began one tall, almost too lean man.
“I do not believe I asked for your opinion on the matter, Sir Anton. Do as I say and leave Jacques here so that I might have someone to see to my needs.”
That had to be Amiel Lucette, Brian decided. There was no one else who appeared to be leading the men. Some women might consider the man handsome, but his voice and manner would be enough to make most men want to kill him. The way the men eyed Amiel when the man was not looking their way told Brian that Lord Lucette was lucky to still be alive. Brian suspected only the man’s alliance with the DeVeaux was accomplishing that miracle.
Everything about the man was thin or narrow, although Brian knew that did not have to mean that the man was some weakling. His hair was black and shoulder length, pulled back from his long, narrow face. There was a sullen curve to the man’s full lips as well. He had the look of a spoiled child.
“I cannot understand how they keep slipping through our fingers,” muttered Lucette, halting Sir Anton’s attempt to slip away. “These barbarians should not be able to thwart us so.”
It was a good thing he was speaking in French, Brian thought, or he would be dead. That sort of sneering insult was very akin to what many English aristocrats were fond of saying. Since Scotland and France had been allies more than enemies for many, many years, it surprised him that there was such distaste for his people among the French aristocracy. But then, most of the time all they wanted was extra men to fight their battles and to keep their old enemy the English beleaguered at home.
“This is their land, Lord Lucette,” replied Sir Anton. “And their skill at fighting is well known, my lord. They have long made up some of our mercenary force.”
“As arrow fodder so that good Frenchmen might stand back until it is safer. No, this puzzles me. I also think it was wrong for us to divide the men. We only need to catch hold of one of the men helping that bitch and my brother’s get and that one would soon tell us where the boys are.”
“Why should they? This is not their fight and they gain nothing from it.”
“So why should they fight or die for either that red-haired bitch or those two common little whelps?”
“They may feel it honorable to assist a woman and two children.”
Lucette waved a heavily beringed hand, sniffed the tankard of wine the maid gave him, and wrinkled his long nose in a clear sign of disgust. “I should not be so surprised that there is no good wine in this heathen land. If we had gained hold of Lady Arianna or one of the boys upon the beach, we would soon have had the lot in our hands. Those men would bargain with us. The message we received from Lord Ignace said this MacFingal clan has little money and is known to be very odd. That wench has no coin to pay them, does she? What coin she may have stolen from my family is undoubtedly at the bottom of the sea.”
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