Highland Guard (10 page)

Harcourt held up his hand and everyone stopped, dismounting when he did. At times he had felt foolish following a lamb and a cat but what signs he had seen along the way had revealed that the men who had taken Benet were indeed riding in this direction. Crouching low, he and his men crept forward until they found the campsite of the men they had been following. The cat was up in a tree close by, lying on a branch overlooking the boy, and the lamb stood at the base of the tree, staring in the direction of Benet.

Rage seized Harcourt when he saw the boy tied up and sitting on the ground. He had to fiercely battle the urge to race into the camp and begin killing every man there. The risk to his son was all that held him back. There were eight men in the camp and only five in Harcourt’s group. Planning was needed. He signaled the others to move back so that they could talk without risk of being overheard only to have the chance to plan anything taken away. Roberta trotted into the camp, bleating, and heading straight for Benet.

All eight men stared at the lamb and then the tallest one grinned. “Seems we will be feasting on lamb tonight, lads.”

“Nay!” screamed Benet, struggling to stand up. “Run, Bertie! Run away!”

Chaos erupted as the men tried to grab the lamb, Benet screaming all the while and trying to wriggle free of his bonds. Harcourt shook his head. He looked at his companions and they just grinned and shrugged. Harcourt thought it over for a moment. The only real cost to waiting for things to settle down and make an attack easier would be the life of the lamb. One look at a frantic, crying Benet told him he could not do it.

“Kill or hobble, but get as many of the fools down as ye can.” He sighed and shook his head. “Dinnae risk yourselves but try to keep that witless animal from being killed.”

They all stood up, drew their swords, and charged. Three men fell quickly due to the shock of the attack. Out of the corner of his eye, as he faced off with the tall man who had wanted Roberta for his meal, Harcourt saw Benet still huddled on the ground but much closer to the trunk of the tree and with the lamb pressed hard up against his chest. He was safe, the fighting going on away from where he was, so Harcourt turned all his attention to the man he was facing.

The man turned out to be skilled with his sword. Harcourt found himself in a true battle for his life. He took a wound to his leg but kept standing as he repaid that with a slash to the man’s sword arm. The man staggered and Harcourt took quick advantage, driving his sword deep into the man’s chest. He fell but, to Harcourt’s surprise, still had enough breath to bellow out an order to the survivors still fighting for their lives.

“Kill that brat!”

Harcourt ignored the pain in his thigh and the feel of the hot blood running down his leg, and raced to reach his son. As he drew near, one of the kidnappers eluded Nicolas, knocked him down, and turned toward Benet, raising his sword to strike at the boy. Harcourt did not think he could make it in time and Nicolas was struggling to his feet, dazed from a hard blow to the head. Just as he bellowed out in pain, fearing he was about to see his child murdered, Harcourt saw a golden ball of fur drop from the tree limb and wrap itself around the attacker’s head, a whirlwind of claws and teeth.

Stumbling to get by Benet’s side, Harcourt watched in amazement as the man screamed and tried to grab hold of the cat that was tearing his face apart. Nicolas rose to his feet, steady again, and called the cat by name, telling it to get down. It did and Nicolas killed the man, not even waiting to see if he was still able to use a sword.

Benet looked at Harcourt. “They were going to eat Roberta.” He burst into tears.

Making certain it was safe to do so, Harcourt untied the boy and tugged him into his arms. The lamb moved to be by him and rest its head on his unwounded thigh. Harcourt watched Roban sit down and begin to delicately clean its claws and he shook his head. It was going to be impossible to complain about the beast now.

“All dead,” said Callum as he came to crouch by Harcourt and started to bandage his leg wound. “This will take a while to heal.” He glanced at Benet who was watching him. “Are ye hurt, lad?”

“Nay,” Benet said, stroking the lamb’s head. “They were going to kill Roberta.” He glanced at Roban. “I think that made
Maman’s
cat angry and he tried to rip out that mon’s eyeballs.”

“He certainly put up a good fight but I really think he was saving you.”

“Aye, that too, but I could hear him growling when the men were chasing Roberta around.” He frowned. “Why did ye bring them with you?”

Harcourt laughed even though it hurt. “Och, lad, we didnae bring them. They brought us. They were following you so we followed them.” It was weak but the smile that curved the boy’s mouth eased his concern for Benet.

“Now, we need to get ye back to Glencullaich so that the women can tend that wound with more care than I can,” said Callum. “Can ye ride?”

Gently setting Benet aside, Harcourt rose to stand on his own two feet. The pain was bad but he believed he could get back to the keep without causing too much damage so he nodded. He felt a little pang of regret when Callum took Benet up with him and someone settled the cat in his saddle pack. With a sigh he patted the cat’s head and decided it was better than having to carry the lamb. Nicolas had taken that animal up with him.

By the time they reached the keep, Harcourt was not sure he would remain conscious when he dismounted. Pain and blood loss had made him grow increasingly light-headed. They were swarmed by people when they rode in. Harcourt’s last clear vision was Dunnie walking up, taking one look at the lamb and the cat, and laughing so hard he was clutching his sides. Then Harcourt heard someone yell out in alarm as he slid out of the saddle.

 

 

“
Maman,
is he going to die?”

“Nay, Benet. He just had a lot of pain and lost a lot of blood. He needed to sleep.”

“Why didnae he get off his horse first?”

“Sometimes sleep just reaches out and takes you. Ye have done it a few times.”

“Oh, aye. I have. I wanted to tell him I am sorry.”

Harcourt wanted to tell Benet he had nothing to be sorry for, that it was not his fault. He found it difficult to form the words, however.

“Ye have nothing to feel sorry for, love. Ye did naught wrong. Those men who took ye away from us were the ones who did wrong.”

“But Sir Harcourt got hurt fighting the bad men and he wouldnae have had to do that if I wasnae with them.”

“Ye didnae ask to be with them, love, and that is the important thing. Now, have ye fed Roberta yet?”

“Och, nay. I best go do that now. They wanted to eat her,” he added in an unsteady voice.

“Weel, they didnae understand that she is precious to ye, love. We all do so ye dinnae need to fear that while she is living here.”

Harcourt heard the boy sigh with relief and then run out of the room. “He ne’er walks anywhere.”

Annys was so startled by hearing Harcourt talk she nearly dropped the basin of water she was using to bathe him. The man had lain there like the dead for two days. His friends and family had assured her that he would wake when he was done recovering from the blood loss, that a good long sleep after a wounding was not uncommon amongst the Murrays. She could feel tears stinging her eyes and fought against the urge to weep.

“So, ye have decided to rejoin the world,” she said and watched his eyes slowly open.

“Aye, although my leg is protesting it.”

“It has actually been healing verra nicely while ye snored away the days.”

“How many days?”

“If we dinnae count the part of day that was left after ye fell off your horse, then two days. ’Tis the night of the second. I was told again and again that this was a normal way of healing for a Murray and must say, it did seem to work verra weel.”

He allowed his mind to mull over every ache and pain and said, “I dinnae feel like I hit the ground.”

“Nay, Nicolas moved verra fast and caught ye ere ye finished falling.”

“How is Benet doing? I could hear him saying he thought it was all his fault and ye seem to get him realizing it wasnae. But, he saw a lot of things that could badly trouble a wee lad.”

“What he appears to have latched on to is that those men wanted to kill and eat Roberta and that no one should get Roban angry.”

Harcourt laughed and winced. “The cat was a fury of claws and teeth. Ne’er seen anything like it. One could almost think the fool beastie placed himself in the tree where it did intending to do just what it did if anyone got too close to the boy.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly when she bathed the area around the wound on his thigh. It was not pain that caused his sudden tension either, but the fact that she was touching his leg. Even the damp cloth she held between her skin and his did not dim the pleasure of that touch.

“How did someone get the lad out of the bolt-hole?” he asked in an attempt to get his mind off the way her bathing of him made his passion rise.

“Whoever did it stole a key. We are still trying to find out whose key was taken but the search for that got set aside when Benet was returned and ye were brought to bed with a serious wound. Now that ye are awake, we shall deal with that. The bolt-hole is being watched. Callum has found that odd one ye discovered filled in and he looks for more.”

“We will get the traitor now.”

“I hope ye are right. I was so hoping that Benet could tell us who took him but he said they covered his mouth and eyes until he was in the camp. Put a sack o’er his head. He is too young to have noticed anything such as scent or sound, and too scared. So we still dinnae ken exactly who is doing this. It is verra difficult to fight an enemy who lives within your home and kens all your secrets.”

“But ye now ken a few of hers. Ye ken how she is slipping in and out and ye ken that she has stolen a key. Small steps toward discovery but more than we had.”

“And then we can put an end to Sir Adam’s source of information. Next we have the final battle with the fool. And then ye can return to your life at Gormfeurach. So, best ye heal fast and weel as I dinnae want to have to explain a lingering injury to your family. I hear it is verra large.”

He reached out and took her hand in his. “It would be nice if the business with Sir Adam is finished so precisely, but, Annys, mayhap the ending ye speak of doesnae need to happen.”

Annys abruptly stood up. “Nay. Dinnae ye make me any promises. I couldnae bear it to hear them and then watch ye ride away. I watched ye do that once and I ne’er want to do it again. Ye didnae e’en find me to say good-bye.” She cursed at her loss of control and ran out of the room, praying every step of the way that he would forget that short emotional outburst.

Harcourt stared at the door. He wished his head were clearer, not so foggy with the remnants of a long sleep and pain. There was something in that little rant that was important. He was certain of it. Closing his eyes as the need for sleep returned, he struggled to make his mind store those words so that he could examine them later.

Annys paused at the door to Harcourt’s bedchamber and carefully looked over what was on the tray she carried. She wondered if it was too much for a man who was still recovering from what had been a serious wound. Then she recalled that it was Joan who had laid out the meal and the woman had enough experience in healing to know what she was doing.

The moment she entered the bedchamber, Annys decided Harcourt was healed enough to eat the hearty meal she had brought him. He was sitting up in bed, idly scratching his broad chest, and playing chess with Callum. She returned his smile as she set the tray down on the table next to the bed. It eased her fear for him as well as the guilt she had suffered. He had been injured while helping her to retrieve her son. It was her enemy he had been fighting. It was her call for help that had plunged him into the middle of her mess.

The fact that he made no mention of her little emotional rant on the night he had finally woken up from what he liked to call his healing sleep had made it easy to return to caring for him. She would have hidden away for longer than the day she had if Benet had not demanded she take him in to see the man. Harcourt had given no sign that he even recalled talking to her the first time he had woken up after falling off his horse. That could simply be because he was too polite to do so, but she did not much care about his reasons, only that she was not going to have to be reminded of that loss of control.

“Ah, sustenance,” said Callum. “By the look of what is set out for you, the ladies have deemed ye weel on your way to being healed. No more gruel.” Callum carefully moved the chess set to the table in front of the fireplace. “Am I right to assume the meal has been set out in the great hall?”

“Aye, the platters were being set upon the table as I left the kitchens,” Annys replied.

“Then I shall leave ye for now, Harcourt. M’lady.”

He bowed slightly to Annys before leaving. She could not fully still her curiosity about the man. Sir Callum was so handsome the maids sighed whenever they saw him. Children adored him. He was also faultless in his courtesy and yet he bristled with weapons. The fact that, despite how finely he dressed, the many knives he carried were not much better than what one of the villagers would have puzzled her. It was just another one of those things that kept her curiosity about him sharp.

A soft hiss of pain drew her attention. She turned to catch Harcourt wincing as he pushed himself into a more upright position. Shaking aside the last of her thoughts concerning Sir Callum she moved to assist Harcourt.

The moment she put her hands on his warm, smooth skin, Annys knew she had made a mistake. Memories of their lovemaking all those years ago crowded into her mind as they too often did since his return, heating her blood. She gritted her teeth as she fought the urge to release her firm hold on him and stroke his strong arms until he wrapped them around her. Harcourt settled himself firmly against the pillows and she immediately released him. Annys clasped her hands together behind her back to hide how they trembled.

Harcourt wasted no time in helping himself to the rich stew she had brought him. It was not the hearty piece of roasted meat he craved, but it was not a tasteless broth either. It also distracted him from the need to yank her into his arms, to pull her body beneath his and repeatedly feed the hunger she stirred within him.

“Has Benet come to see you since the first time when I brought him in?” she asked.

“Aye, many times,” Harcourt replied. “I think he finally believes I havenae been killed.”

Annys smiled. “He was verra fearful. It took me quite a while to convince him that it wasnae his fault. He was so certain he should have fought harder. I fear he doesnae like to be reminded that he is just a wee lad.”

“Of course not. No lad does. From the day they understand they are to become men like those they see walking about with swords, fighting, and drinking ale, they take on that pride.”

“Hmmm. So they try to become men with all that swagger and arrogance.”

“Aye.” He grinned at the look of annoyance on her face.

“Weel, he is calmer now. Ye will be pleased to ken that Joan believes ye can get out of bed for a wee while. It has been a sennight and ye are healing weel.”

“We Murrays do heal weel, and oftimes fast.”

“A fine gift. But, ye are to be careful to nay do too much or stand on that leg too much.”

Harcourt nodded, frustrated but not foolish enough to ignore good advice. “The healers in my clan would say the same. Aye, and be verra annoyed if I didnae heed their warnings.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“And I suspicion if I was fool enough to ignore Mistress Joan’s advice, she would show me that she could lecture me with all the power of my mother.”

“Aye, she would. Joan has always been an expert at a good, ear-reddening scold.”

Annys reached to take away his now empty dishes and squeaked in surprise when he put an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She put her hands on his broad shoulders to keep some space between them but decided that was a mistake. The warmth of his skin beneath her hands had her pulse leaping. When he moved, the shift of his strong muscles under her hands made her flush as her blood heated.

“Ye ken, ’tis custom to kiss a wound to help it heal,” he murmured as he kissed her blush-tinged cheek.

“That is only for bairns,” she said, fighting the urge to look at his strong thigh, the one now bearing stitches and snugly bandaged.

“A poor wounded mon is much akin to a bairn.”

“Ye willnae hear me argue that.”

He was still smiling when he kissed her. Annys knew she ought to pull away, to admonish him for his attempt to seduce her, but she failed to gather the willpower to do so. He tasted too good. Despite the slight awkwardness of the position she was in, it also felt far too good to be held in his arms again. She wanted to push all the dishes aside and climb into the bed with him.

A hard rap at the door jerked Annys to her senses. She scrambled free of Harcourt’s grasp so quickly she barely stopped herself from falling on the floor and rattled the dishes. Only his quick action saved him from a lap full of dirty dishes. Fussily patting her hair to fix any dishevelment and plucking at her skirts to be certain they were in place, Annys ignored Harcourt’s grumbled objections to being disturbed and moved toward the door. It surprised her to find Callum there, his expression far more serious than she was used to seeing.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, her fear still running strong after what had happened to Benet.

“Nay, but I need to talk to Harcourt for a moment,” he said.

“Just give me a moment to collect the dishes,” she said and hurriedly did so.

It was not until she found herself out in the hall, the door shut securely behind her, that Annys began to be a little annoyed. If they were about to discuss Sir Adam or some trouble at Glencullaich she should be involved in the discussion. Then she shook aside that moment of pique. She had handed the problem of Glencullaich over to Harcourt and his men. It was unfair for her to now complain about how they went about it. If there was anything she truly needed to know or do as the lady of Glencullaich, Harcourt would tell her.

Although, she mused as she made her way back to the kitchens, it might not be a good idea to be alone with Harcourt for too long. Annys knew he had been working hard to seduce her into his bed. She also knew she was weakening fast. It was past time for her to come to a decision about Harcourt. Her heart and body yearned for him but she had to try to silence them and think clearly. If nothing else, if she bed down with him she wanted it to be her choice, a clear-headed, well-thought-out decision.

 

 

“The traitor is in the kitchen,” said Callum as he sat on the edge of Harcourt’s bed.

“Ye discovered which one is betraying us?” Harcourt wanted to leap from the bed to go confront the one who had given his son into the hands of his enemy, probably with sword in hand, and he was not sure the fact that it was a woman he was hunting would stop him from killing her.

“Nay yet, but ’tis one of the lassies who work in the kitchens. Three of them have some secret. The lass I play with is certain that two of them have a lover they meet with, one they dinnae want anyone to ken about. She isnae sure what young Minna is doing but doubts ’tis anything bad.”

“Annys’s kitchens are a true pit of sin from what ye say. Can ye trust your lass?”

“Aye,” Callum said without hesitation. “I havenae told her why I ask so much, but she isnae a fool and I think she has guessed my game. She quickly began to tell me anything and everything about each one who works there. Peg grew even more of a fount of information after Benet was taken. The shades of outrage within the kitchens was another way I have fixed my interests and suspicions on but three of them, although I do believe Minna is innocent of betrayal. ’Tis only her closely held secret that makes me wonder.”

“Ye didnae discover this all between here and the great hall. Why come to tell me right now? Did ye e’en get a bite to eat?”

“Peg was waiting for me just inside the door of the great hall to quietly say that she had thought long and hard on what I was trying to discover and it suddenly occurred to her that ’tis nay just the problems with Sir Adam that have me asking questions. She said she thinks I have decided the laird was killed and am looking for the killer. Seems someone might have overheard our talk of poison. She told me that only three women dealt with the laird’s food.”

“The three ye already watch?”

“Aye. Biddy, Minna, and Adie.”

“Do ye ken why it is the maids in the kitchens who are the only ones amongst who a traitor has emerged?”

“Aside from the fact that the easiest way to poison someone ye badly want dead is to get to him through his food?”

“Aye, aside from that.”

“Weel, they are nay watched verra closely, are they. They go where they want as long as the meal is done weel and on time.” Callum smiled faintly. “No one wishes to cause trouble for the ones who feed them. ’Tis also verra easy for one of them to slip in and out of the keep. There are always errands to run and supplies needed. No one questions what they are doing. The entrance to the bolt-hole is verra close at hand so it is easy to sneak into. Those two things alone were why I set after one of those lassies.”

“Have ye found who nay longer has the key to the bolt-hole?”

“Dunnie found his. Nicolas found his yet seems to think something isnae right about it. It works so it is the key. Or
a
key. Joan found hers. So, Nicolas and I are thinking it may have been his key, stolen, and used to have another made. I have also made certain that the place where the tunnel comes out is weel guarded, but not too obviously.”

“We need to find which one of them is the guilty one as quickly as we can. Sir Adam is preparing for something, I am certain of it, and we cannae have anyone here who is willing to help him,” said Harcourt.

Callum nodded and stood up. “I mean to follow each one of them. May e’en get Nicolas to help. First will be Minnie. I need to ken what her secret is before I can dismiss her as the traitor.”

Harcourt settled back against his pillows after Callum left. They were close, he could feel it. Ending Sir Adam’s ability to get information about them would be the first true victory they had gained. Most everything else they had done had been little more than successful acts of defense. More was needed.

He greeted Nicolas with relief when the man arrived. Although he would do his best not to do too much that might risk aggravating the healing wound in his leg, he had to get out of the bed he had been trapped in for a sennight. Laughing at Harcourt’s eagerness, Nicolas helped him dress. When the man handed him a walking stick, Harcourt swore but took it.

It did not take many steps for Harcourt to realize a week in bed sapped a man’s strength. He should have remembered that, he thought as he almost collapsed in the seat at the table in the great hall. A few drinks of ale, set before him by a freckle-faced maid, were enough to revive him and he was pleased when the others joined him. They needed to make plans because he could not shake free of the certainty that Sir Adam would soon attack Glencullaich in force.

 

 

Annys scowled at what remained in the spice cupboard. Either Maura, the cook, had been too caught up with the troubles they were suffering from to notice how low their supply was getting or was just old enough now to become forgetful. There had also been a lot of the villagers staying at the keep who had needed to be fed, although most of those had been able to return home by now. If their spices were not replenished soon they would all be eating some very bland food.

Realizing she had nothing to make a list of their needs with, Annys decided to go get some writing materials from the ledger room. If they were running out of something as important as spices they undoubtedly needed other things. She started out of the storeroom only to pause just inside the door to study the women there.

When she saw Biddy, a plump, fair-haired young woman who was one of the cook’s assistants, slyly tuck some bread into her apron, Annys stepped back a little into the shadows and kept her gaze fixed on the woman. Since Biddy had no desperate need for food, she had to wonder why the woman would steal some bread. It could be something as innocent as wanting to share some food with a lover, but Annys was still wary. The moment she had learned there was a traitor within the walls of Glencullaich, the number of people she trusted without question had dropped alarmingly. Annys wanted the traitor gone so that she could feel safe again within her own home.

Biddy told Maura she needed to get out of the hot kitchen for a while. Maura did not even look up from the work she was doing, just grunted in reply. The moment Biddy walked out, Maura began to mutter to herself, a long list of complaints about how often Biddy walked away from the work she was supposed to do. The fact that Biddy did not go out the door leading to the kitchen gardens was suspicious. Annys decided that was more than enough reason to follow the woman.