Highland Guard (7 page)

“Ye have sisters or brothers?”

“Two brothers. One younger and one older.”

“Why did ye nay ask them to come and help ye with Sir Adam?”

“Colin is too busy trying to keep our lands making enough coin to support my mother and father. Ah, and Edward has just wed a lass whose father sees him as his heir to his small holding. I do get word from them now and then but I kenned weel that I could find no aid there. That isnae meaning they wouldnae have offered, just that they cannae. I kenned ye were a warrior. My brothers cannae claim that, either.”

“And that is why ye didnae wish to go home. T’was cold there, aye?”

She felt the press of his warm lips against the corner of her eye and answered, “Aye. That and my cousins. Evil boys. Men now, but long gone from there. I complained about them once to my mother and got a beating for it. I was too naïve to realize that it was my uncle and aunt who had the money e’en though my father had the land.”

Harcourt had a fair idea of what those “evil boys” had been trying to do with their very young cousin. He gently tugged her closer but it was not just sympathy for the lonely child she must have been. There was nothing he could do to change the past. What he wanted was a kiss and for some odd reason he was approaching the matter with all the skill of an untried boy.

Annys realized she was nearly sitting in Harcourt’s lap. The thought made her blush for a large part of her thought that would be a lovely place to be. One look in his amber eyes told her that he was not thinking about comforting her for rousing bad memories at the moment.

“Harcourt,” she began, trying to put a warning in her voice, which came out sounding a little too welcoming.

“Just a kiss,” he said and brushed his mouth over hers.

It was never just a kiss to her but Annys had no intention of confessing that. She told herself to get up and walk away, perhaps even leave him with a few sharp words of rebuke. But his lips were so soft and warm. Even the light touch of them on hers was enough to make the heat of need flow through her body. As she let him draw her more fully into his embrace a little voice told her that she would pay dearly for giving in to such temptation. Annys ignored it.

Her whole body welcomed his kiss. As his tongue caressed the inside of her mouth her hunger for him grew until she ached. For a moment she tensed when he moved his hands up from her waist. Then he stroked the sides of her breasts with his fingers, making them swell and ache for the feel of his caress, and she trembled.

The strength of her reaction to such a light, not quite intimate, touch startled her and broke the spell his kiss had put her under. Annys became all too aware of their surroundings. The bower might be shaded, but they were not completely hidden away. Anyone, including Benet, could stumble upon their little tryst. Sharing heated kisses in the garden was not the way the lady of Glencullaich should behave.

Harcourt silently cursed when her soft, willing body abruptly grew tense. He wanted to hold her tight and bring back the fire he had tasted in her kiss but he knew that would be a mistake. What he desperately wanted to know was what had happened to douse her fire. He could then make certain it never happened again.

Unless it was some memory of him that turned her cold and cautious. It was an alarming thought. Harcourt could not think of anything he had done. He knew men could be complete lackwits about what would and would not upset a woman, but he prided himself on being more astute than most. The women in his family took pride in making sure their men, especially their sons, had some faint ability to see when they had done something that might offend or upset a woman before they went out into the world. If he did not find out what was turning her cold soon he was going to be useless in the coming fight. He would be too crippled with unsatisfied lust to even walk, he thought, and almost smiled at that nonsense. In truth, he would more likely be eager to kill as many of their enemy as possible.

“Annys? Is something wrong?” he asked when she pulled free of his embrace. “Ye look concerned.”

“Of a certain I am concerned. We are in the garden!” The look of confusion that passed over his handsome face made her want to hit him even though she knew most of her growing anger was aimed right at her own weakness. “Anyone could see us.”

Harcourt opened his mouth to argue that when a young male voice called out to her. A moment later young Gavin hurried over to them, having spotted them from the moment he had entered the garden. The chances of such a thing happening every time he sought to steal a kiss in the garden were very small, but one look at Annys’s face told him it would be wise if he kept that opinion to himself. She looked briefly horrified and embarrassed before she assumed that calm, sweet expression he had begun to call her
m’lady
face.

“The MacQueen laird has sent an answer,” Gavin said.

Seeing no missive in his hand, Annys asked, “Did ye put it in the ledger room ere ye came to find me?”

“Nay, he didnae write anything. He told me to tell you he needed to ponder his answer a wee bit and would send it on soon.”

“Ponder his answer?” Annys shook her head. “Thank ye, Gavin.” The moment the youth walked away, she looked at Harcourt. “What is there for the mon to ponder? I asked him to do something about the trouble his son was causing me. A simple aye or nay, or e’en a
my son can do no wrong
reply was all that was needed.”

Harcourt stood up, reached out to her in the hope of easing her agitation, and then tried not to wince when she smoothly moved out of the way. “He but delays, makes ye wait.”

“Wait for what?”

He shrugged. “For him to see for himself if what ye told him was true? To keep ye waiting and thinking he might help so that his son has more time to ready his next attack? All I am certain of is that the mon plays some game. I am just nay exactly sure which one.”

“Which do ye think is the most probable?”

“That he tries to make ye think ye could find help there and so will wait and do nothing else.”

“Thus, as you said, giving Sir Adam that time he needs to ready himself for his next strike.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try to tamp down a rising anger, then looked at him again. “Weel, he will soon see that I am nay such a weak fool. We shall continue to do whate’er is needed to protect ourselves. And I
hate
this,” she added softly.

When he moved to take her into his arms, thinking only to comfort her, she evaded him again. “What is wrong? I but meant to try to ease the pain I heard in your voice when ye spoke.”

Annys studied his face, seeing no lie there. She doubted the embrace would have remained one of only comfort, however. She was not being vain in believing that he wanted her, was just not sure it was a want as whole-hearted as the one she had for him. As with too many men, Harcourt’s wanting probably sprang from just one part of him while hers was rooted so deep inside it was as much a part of her as breathing.

“Then I thank ye for that thought,” she said. “And, aye, this is a matter which causes me great pain. I simply cannae understand how anyone could wish harm upon a child or a place as fine as this just for their own gain. And that is all Adam sees when he looks at Glencullaich. Gain.
His
gain. He would bleed this place dry if he got his hands on it. I willnae allow that. I willnae play his father’s sly games, either.”

“Good, although I wasnae verra worried that ye would cry a halt to all we are doing just to wait on that mon’s word.” He held out his hand. “Sit with me for a wee while and we can discuss it all.”

Harcourt inwardly cursed when he saw wariness creep into her expression. He was not surprised, however. It had been an awkward ploy. For reasons he could not fathom, he lost all his reputed wooing skills when dealing with Annys.

“I begin to think ye play a wee sly game as weel, Sir Harcourt Murray.”

“Me? What game would I play with you, sweet Annys?”

“Seduction. Weel, ye can cease playing for I am wise to you now.”

Harcourt watched her walk away and slowly smiled. It was freeing, in a way, that she now understood he was trying to seduce her. He had discovered that his well-practiced seduction ploys did not work well on a woman who had never played the game. Such ploys were for the more worldly wise ladies, not one like Annys. The fact that he wanted to win this prize with a desperation that surprised him made him clumsy at the game anyway. Now he could openly hunt her down and he found he was heartily looking forward to that.

He walked toward the bailey to rejoin the others in training the men. Annys was still giving him a free hand in firming up Glencullaich’s defense. Sir Adam’s father had badly misjudged the intelligence of the woman he was dealing with. There would be no pause as she waited for his reply. In truth, Harcourt had every intention of working harder and faster.

It was not easy to ignore the four big men flanking her as she walked to the butcher’s, but Annys did her best to do so. Annoying though it was to be smothered with protection there was one advantage to it all. There were a lot of eyes on Benet, keeping her son in sight at all times. The boy was skipping along next to Sir Callum and as safe as he could ever be.

Benet was also chattering away so much that Annys was surprised he found the time to breathe properly. What truly astonished her, however, was how pleasantly Sir Callum dealt with the child’s unceasing talk. The man even took the time to discuss the goats Benet pointed out as if it was some new, fascinating subject to him, one worthy of all his attention. Her son, who was so often shy with men he did not know well, had taken to Sir Callum from the very beginning. So had most of the other children at Glencullaich. The man had a true gift with the young although she had to wonder if he thought it more of a curse at times.

“Callum loves the bairns,” said Harcourt, seeing where she was looking and burying a twinge of jealousy over how well Benet got along with Callum. “He made a vow when nay more than a child himself. He said he would always keep children safe, that he intended to become the one to defend them. Lad had a hard beginning himself.”

“Mayhap that is what draws the children to him,” Annys said. “The children ken it in that way they have.” She met Harcourt’s gaze, ignoring the way her pulse increased when she looked into his golden eyes. “And mayhap ’tis for the best if Benet doesnae spend too much time with you,” she added quietly and tried to ignore what looked like hurt darkening his eyes.

Harcourt pushed aside the pain her words caused him. He had just begun to believe that he had accepted the fact that he could not come to know his son as he wanted to, and then something would be said to make him regret the loss all over again. She was right. The less he and Benet were together, the smaller the chance that anyone would grow suspicious. Too much could be lost if anyone outside of Glencullaich guessed David was not the boy’s true sire. It would give weight to Sir Adam’s claim that he was the true heir. The people of Glencullaich deserved far better than Sir Adam as their laird.

Benet was alive, much loved by his mother and the people of Glencullaich, and he was both healthy and bright. He also was the laird and had a future ahead of him as a powerful and wealthy noble, something Harcourt could never give him. Harcourt found that he needed to remind himself of that far too often the longer he stayed at Glencullaich. Openly claiming Benet as his might make him feel better but it would take from Benet far more than he could ever hope to replace.

There were times he cursed the customs and teachings of his family. Many men were all too ready to walk away from a child they bred despite how often they condemned that child to a hard life. Harcourt could never do that. Leaving a woman carrying his child had proven hard enough but he had known that child would be loved and cared for, and would prosper. Now that he had seen his son, come to know the child, that was no longer enough but his vow to David held him silent. Murrays did not break a vow.

When Annys entered the butcher’s small shop with Benet, Harcourt took a careful look around before leaving her to do her business with the man. He rejoined his companions and surveyed the village that hugged the hillside. It was a good place. Harcourt made careful note of a few things he would like to do at Gormfeurach.

“’Tis a fine place for a lad to grow into a man,” said Callum.

Harcourt winced. “I ken it. Kenned it all those years ago when David asked me to do that one thing for him. After all, I owed him my life. Doesnae make it any easier.”

“Nay, I suspicion it doesnae.”

“And now? Weel, now I ken more fully why he asked such a thing of me. The kinsmon who wants to take his place as laird cannae be allowed to hold Glencullaich. This land, these people, deserve better than that.”

“Aye, they do. That doesnae mean ye couldnae still be a part of the lad’s life.”

Harcourt smiled faintly. “That could cause as many problems as it might solve.”

“Because others might soon suspect what the lad is to you?” asked Callum. “Or because it would be difficult to leave the lass alone?”

“I have been told that most of the people here have kenned that the lad was ne’er David’s get.”

“And they dinnae care?”

“Nay. They loved David and David claimed the boy, took him straight into his heart. Now that I have seen what awaited them if there was no heir, I can understand such acceptance. As for the lass? Nay, I wouldnae be able to leave her alone. I find it most difficult to do that even now.”

“And, of course, if ye stayed here it wouldnae take long for your kin to discover the lad, aye?”

Harcourt grimaced. “They would and that would be a complication I should verra much like to avoid.”

Callum nodded. “They wouldnae be able to act as if he was just some other woman’s child, a woman ye ken weel and whose husband was a good friend to you. They would treat Benet as what he is—blood kin. But then, they are weel kenned to readily accept stray bairns into their family.”

Recalling how Callum came to be so much a part of their family, Harcourt frowned. His clan was indeed well known to take into their homes the children that others cast aside so callously. It was that reputation that had landed Callum in his brother Payton’s home so many years ago. The woman Payton now called wife had hunted him down to aid her in the rescuing of Callum and his friends. Payton and Kirstie still rescued children, a crusade Callum had taken up as well. It could mean that he could tell his kin about Benet yet not risk the boy’s place as David’s heir. His kin were also very skilled at keeping secrets.

“I need to decide what I do and dinnae wish to do about Annys ere I decide on how to deal with my kin,” he said.

“What is there to decide? Ye want her. That isnae much of a secret. Ye wanted her five years ago and ye still do. A wanting that lasts that long is much more than a simple lusting.”

“I ken it. Just dinnae ken if it is enough. And, she isnae rushing into my arms now, is she. My vanity has taken a mighty beating as she remains unmoved by all my seduction skills.”

Callum laughed softly but quickly grew serious again. “I can see the want in her eyes when she looks at you. But, do ye ken what else I see? Guilt.”

“She has naught to feel guilty about.”

“Nay, but that doesnae means she believes that. The rules are written clearly, old friend. The Church preaches them to one and all from the time we are all too young to e’en ken what they are actually saying or what they mean. She broke a verra big rule and it doesnae matter much if her own husband told her to do it. Big sin. Big guilt.”

Harcourt cursed. “I wondered on that. Cannae say I dinnae feel the bite of it myself from time to time. Ne’er mind what the Church preaches. Adultery is darkly frowned upon by my kin. I didnae break a vow to a wife but that wouldnae completely save me from their censure.” He frowned as he caught the glint of sun on metal on the side of one of the many hills surrounding the village.

“What is it?” asked Callum as he looked in the same direction Harcourt was intensely staring in.

“Someone is up there.”

“One of the herdsmen or shepherds?”

“Would they start a fire on such a fine day?” Seeing how Callum squinted, Harcourt pointed to where he had seen a thin curl of smoke rising above a cluster of big stones. “There. Just behind that wee cairn.” He soon saw two more signs of smoke.

“Ye have eyes like a falcon. Ah, aye, now I see it or something akin to what ye say ye are looking at. What are they doing? And, aye, now I see the other two.”

“I dinnae ken. Spying on us. They are close enough to see a lot if they have good eyes. But why the fire? ’Tis a warm day.” He mulled over that very question for a moment and then cursed.

“What?”

“How close do ye need to be to hit one of these roofs with an arrow?”

Callum cursed. “Since he but has to put one onto a roof, that is close enough. I now see the problem with having the village nestled in these hills.”

“Two choices. Warn the village or try to get to them before they shoot any arrows.”

“We can do both. Only need to bellow out an alarm and make sure they dinnae get so afraid they hurt each other in fleeing.” Callum whistled, bringing Tamhas and Gybbon to his side.

Both men cursed freely when they saw the problem and raced for their horses, held by Joan’s boys at the edge of the village. Harcourt was just trying to think of a way to quietly spread the word that people needed to move when the first arrow came toward the town in a pretty if deadly arc of flame. He slapped Callum on the shoulder and the man began running to warn people as he turned and raced into the butcher’s to get Annys and Benet out of the shop.

Annys turned quickly to see who had just slammed into Master Kenneth’s shop. The look on Harcourt’s face had her reaching for Benet who was patting a lamb, blissfully unaware that it was soon for the block. Something had gone terribly wrong, she thought, and a heartbeat later she heard the sounds of alarm outside the door.

“Out of the building,” Harcourt ordered. “Someone is trying to set the roofs alight.”

Master Kenneth grabbed what he cherished most and headed straight for the door, snatching up the lamb as he walked past it. Annys clung to Benet as Harcourt pulled them out onto the street. For a moment it looked like complete chaos but she quickly began to see that Callum was working to get everyone out and to begin work to save as much as they could.

“Get to the edge of the village but stay in sight so I ken ye are safe. By Old Tom’s rowan tree.”

“I should help.”

“Ye will. I mean to send the women and children to gather there with ye.”

A cry and several people pointing caused her to look up. Even though she knew that what was headed their way was viciously dangerous, Annys was fascinated as it sailed over her head and landed on the roof of Old Meg’s little home. That woman was already hurrying out of the house dragging two sacks of her meager goods. Annys hurried to her side, grabbed one of the sacks, and then led the woman to where Harcourt had told her to wait.

“My bonnie wee home will be gone,” cried Old Meg, tears streaking the dirt on her wrinkled face. “What will I do?”

“If they cannae save it, Meg, then ye shall have a new one,” Annys promised.

She soon saw that she had been given an important job, alleviating the last of her unease about not being right there in the midst of it all alongside Harcourt and the men of the village. The women who had the strength and agility to help, stayed with the men to try to save what could be saved but they readily sent their children over to Annys and the older women. Annys soothed whom she was able to but her anger over the destruction was a hard knot in her belly. Keeping children and old women calm and corralled at the tree took all of her energy and she was grateful for that. Something inside of her was demanding she have a screaming, fists-and-heels-pounding-on-the-ground fit, the kind that had been quickly beaten out of her as a child. Giving in to that would be too humiliating.

Men from the keep raced into the village and swiftly moved to help. Annys tried to see where the fire had come from and saw Callum send a few men toward the hills. She then recalled seeing Tamhas and Gybbon ride that way as she had hurried to get Old Meg to the tree. It frightened her to think that men that far away could wreak such damage but she could not move the village or flatten the hills. She was worrying about that danger when she was distracted by a wrinkled, dirty hand patting her on the arm. She realized she must have let her alarm show for Old Meg was trying to comfort her.

“Everyone got out, m’lady, and that be what matters.” The old woman squinted toward the hills. “I suspicion those fine knights ye fetched for us will think of something to fix that weakness now that it has been seen clear and all.”

“I suspicion they will indeed,” replied Annys as she finally set Benet down. “Stay right here with all of us.”

“I will,
Maman,
” he said, his bottom lip trembling. “I dinnae like the burning. Why would someone want to burn our village?”

“A mon who wants us to leave so he can have this land for his own,” she replied. “All the people got out of the houses, love. We will be fine.”

“The animals are running about all scared. They could get hurt.”

Annys had noticed that. Needing to flee quickly meant not being able to gather up one’s pets or livestock and it appeared the solution had been to just open wide the doors, gates, and hutches. The bigger animals had swiftly moved to the edge of the village away from the smoke, milling around nervously as each kept a close watch on the fire. The smaller animals scurried around squawking, quacking, barking, and just making a general, dangerous nuisance of themselves.

“I dinnae think there is much we can do about that, Benet. We cannae get in the way of the ones fighting the fire.”

She yelped and leapt out of the way when a large cat raced between her legs followed by a barking dog. Spinning around she watched the cat leap into the tree while one of the boys grabbed the dog by the ruff and pulled it away. Several people laughed and Annys’s concern for everyone eased a little more.

“We can go down and gather up some of them, m’lady,” said a young girl with a face splattered with freckles. “We willnae get in the men’s way. We ken how to get most of them to come to us.” She pointed at the two girls with her.

“Be verra certain ye stay away from the burning areas and the men, Annie. Ye as weel, Una and Beth. None of those poor animals are worth any of you getting hurt.”

“We will be careful, m’lady.”

With so many women watching the children, Annys felt safe keeping her attention on the girls slipping around the edges of the area that was on fire. They had collected two boys to help them. Soon the small livestock along with dogs and cats, most of which made a quick retreat up a tree as soon as they reached one, joined the women and children by the rowan tree. She made certain to congratulate the girls and boys on a job well done and meant every word of it. Without all of the smaller animals cluttering up the road in their mindless panic the men working to put out the fires moved a little faster.