Highland Master (5 page)

Once close enough to hear what was being said, however, his caution rapidly returned. This man was the one responsible for trying to keep Banuilt in a state of near starvation, and only Triona’s skills had stopped him from succeeding. Sir John sat there on his mount, looking down at her with a look of such arrogant condescension that Brett was astonished she had not told him to leave and never return. She showed more restraint than many of his kinswomen would have.

What he gathered as he slipped closer and listened carefully was that Sir John wanted Triona, not just the land. Just as he had suspected, the man had hoped to simply marry his way into the laird’s seat at Banuilt. He doubted the man did more than lust after her, for no man who actually cared for a woman would speak to her in such a way, but it was clear that he wanted her to give in to his wishes to become the laird of Banuilt through a marriage between them. The man was also a fool not to at least attempt to woo Triona. He was not making her more inclined to give in, with his tricks and not-so-subtle insults, only making her stand more firmly against him. And, he thought as he glanced around at the other women, making her women stand more firmly beside her as she refused him.

Deciding he had heard enough, he moved into the open and walked the last few feet to stand beside Triona. He smiled faintly when Sir John scowled and his hand went to his sword. Brett would welcome a fight but knew now was not the time for one. He just crossed his arms over his chest, not showing any overt threat to the man. Brett swore he could see his men all bristle with badly hidden outrage each time the man opened his mouth.

“The lady has help now,” he said.

“And who are ye?” Sir John demanded.

Triona hastily introduced the men to each other, thinking that they looked a little too much like male dogs bristling in preparation for a battle over a bone. Looking from one man to the other, she decided that Sir Brett was by far the better specimen of manhood, and Sir John would easily lose to him in any fair battle. Something about the way Sir John glared at Sir Brett told her that he also thought that he would lose a fight with the man.

“They came with my cousin Lady Arianna MacFingal, who decided to visit with me for a while,” she explained, but it did nothing to ease the tension between the two men.

“How long do ye mean to stay at Banuilt?” Sir John demanded.

Before Triona could reply that it was none of his business how long her visitors remained, Brett said, “For as long as it takes to be certain that Banuilt stands strong and untroubled again.”

And that was a gauntlet thrown down if ever she had heard one, thought Triona. She had to fight the urge to kick Brett. This was not how she had wanted Sir John to find out that she had strong fighting men at Banuilt. This was a challenge to Sir John, but she suspected that, at heart, he was too much the coward to take it up directly. He would just increase his efforts to cause her misery. She had welcomed the addition of fine, strong fighting men, but knew they could not watch over everything at Banuilt if Sir John decided to try even harder to beggar her and her people.

Worse, he might think Sir Brett or one of his men could become a threat to his own plans for her. How was he to push her into a marriage she did not want if she had men of equal rank around her at all times, men who might decide they would like to be laird of Banuilt? Since Sir John wanted to marry her so he could set his backside in the laird’s chair at Banuilt, he would no doubt suspect that any other man near her coveted the same thing. Triona did not want to even think of what Sir John might do then.

It also annoyed her that Sir John saw Sir Brett as an equal and a threat, yet had never considered her to be. He had seen her only as a nuisance, one he simply had to push to do his will. She had held out longer than he liked, but she doubted he had ever considered that he would fail, until he saw Sir Brett walk up. Triona was deeply insulted by that and wondered why the man could not acknowledge that it was her and her people, most of them women, who were holding him back from getting what he wanted.

“Banuilt suffers because it is too much for a lone woman to manage,” said Sir John.

“I suspicion she would manage weel enough if the fields didnae catch fire and her stock stayed where she put it.”

There were a few snickers from the women listening to the exchange, and Triona saw Sir John flush with anger. “Sir Brett and his men have most kindly offered to give my men some training,” she said quickly, hoping to ease the sudden tension between the two men. “They must take the place of the garrison lost to France, and training by belted knights is an offer I would be foolish to refuse.” She watched him closely to see if he had any reaction to her mention of her garrison, and wondered why she was not relieved when she saw none.

“Ye could have asked me for some men to do that,” Sir John said. “I would have sent ye a few of my best to see to the training of yours.”

Which would have given him armed men right inside the walls of her manor, she thought, but just smiled. His one true weakness was his utter disregard for the wits and strength of women. She knew he thought her foolish enough not to see how such an offer would aid him in taking hold of Banuilt, but she would say nothing to make him question his own opinion. There was also the chance that he would send men who would not be such a great help to him because they might simply be reunited with the women of Banuilt who were heartily missing them, but she doubted he noticed enough of the goings-on amongst his own people to be aware of that. Triona had no intention of enlightening him, either.

“That would have been most generous of you, my laird, and I thank ye for the offer. Howbeit, as Sir Brett is a cousin by marriage . . .”

“Many times removed,” Brett said, and met her quick glare with a grin.

“I think it best if I allow him to do the training,” she continued. “If he and his men are forced to leave ere the men are fully trained, I will give due consideration to your offer and let ye ken what I think.”

Which she would never do, she mused, for if she told the man what she really thought, he would probably beat her and then drag her before a priest. Triona could see the brute beneath his fine clothing. From the gossip she had heard from her women, his men thought him a harsh laird, nothing like his father or grandfather. They called him vain and spoiled, his temper flaring at the smallest thing. Since Sir John had so many highly placed friends, she had to assume that he saved the revelation of that side of his nature for those he thought beneath him. Since those included women, that was another reason she had never even considered the marriage he offered.

“As ye wish, m’lady, although I think it a mistake,” said Sir John. “Always best to stay with those closest to ye. I have ne’er heard of any of your kin coming to visit ere now, so pardon me if I am concerned just a little about this.”

“My cousin resided in France until recently, my laird. She was a close friend of mine before then. Naturally, when she returned home to Scotland she wished to renew our friendship. I am certain all will be weel.”

“Ye ken how all can be weel, my lady, but ye continue to refuse to see the wisdom of our uniting.”

“I am still in mourning, my laird. Considering anything more than honoring my husband’s memory would be wrong.”

Triona was amazed those words had not burned her tongue. She had barely thought of Boyd after he died, missing him only in passing and in an odd, unemotional way. She had buried him and just continued on as she always had, only without the tedious business of his trying to breed a son on her. There was a hard look in Sir John’s eyes that told her he might have some idea of how little she grieved for her husband, but she did her best to continue to look sweet and innocent.

She did wonder why he felt so at ease delivering what was a less than subtle insult to Sir Brett. Sir John had implied that she was wrong to trust the man, and many a fellow would see that as a slap against his honor. A peek at Sir Brett, however, revealed him just calmly watching Sir John, apparently unmoved by the not-so-well-hidden slur.

“Please wish our liege my best when ye see him, Sir John,” she said, hoping to move the man on his way.

“Oh, I intend to speak to him about ye and Banuilt, have nay fear of that. I do my best to keep the mon weel informed of all that goes on here, and the sad state of the village.” He looked at Sir Brett and frowned at the four men who had silently come out of the shadows to stand behind him. “I will also speak on your new guests.”

“Ye do that, Sir John,” said Brett. “Be certain to mention that she is kin to the Murrays of Donncoill.”

“Through marriage many times removed,” Triona murmured, but was not surprised when Brett ignored her as completely as she had ignored his reminder of that fact.

“. . . and the MacFingals of Scarglas, and the MacMillans,” Brett continued. “He may have heard of some of us and be able to put your concerns to rest. Many of my kinsmen spend time at the king’s court, as I suspect your liege laird does. I also have many kinsmen I can call upon to help me in aiding Lady Triona if she should have need of it.”

Triona was not sure what good that would do, but Sir John did look briefly disconcerted. Perhaps the confidence behind Sir Brett’s words made him worry that there was something about those clans he should know but did not. He simply jerked his head in a nod and rode off, his men scrambling to follow him.

The dust stirred up by Sir John’s retreat was still clouding the air when Triona turned to glare at Sir Brett. “Was it necessary to goad him? Aye, e’en threaten him?”

“I didnae threaten him,” Brett said.

“Och, aye, ye did. It was more like a pinch than a blow to the head, true enough, but the threat was still there, and all heard it.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldnae have liked to have to repeat myself.”

If it had been at all possible, Triona would have grabbed him by those muscle-taut upper arms of his and shaken him until his teeth rattled, but she had to content herself with as fierce a glare as she could manage. “Ye made him verra angry, especially when ye so kindly told him that ye were staying to aid me and the people of Banuilt. I didnae want him to ken that.”

Brett knew it would have been far better if the man had remained ignorant of that fact for a little while longer, but he did not regret what he had said, either. He did not believe the man would have remained ignorant of his plans to help Triona for much longer anyway. In a place as devoid of strong fighting men as Banuilt, he and his companions would quickly be noticed. It would not surprise him to learn that Sir John had come to Banuilt to see the men he had already been told about. Since there was no hiding the presence of him and his men for long, he had also decided it would not hurt to let Sir John know exactly how much aid Brett could call on to help the people of Banuilt.

He found an angry Triona beguiling but knew it would be a grave mistake to tell her so. The women in his family had taught him that lesson well, at an early age. Brett could not clear his mind of thoughts of her, however. Her blue-gray eyes had darkened to the gray of storm clouds. The sunlight brought out the red and gold streaking her brown hair, making it glow with warm color. Her full lips were turned down into a scowl that he ached to kiss off her mouth.

Forcing his thoughts away from how that tempting mouth would taste, he said, “He kenned we were here. I am fair sure of it. That is exactly why he rode through the village. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of us for himself.”

“Catching sight of ye doesnae tell him much.”

Triona watched one of his neatly curved dark brows cock upward and the corners of his mouth lift just enough to hint at a smile. It was an arrogant look and one that gently scolded her for saying something so foolish. It irritated her, made her palm itch to slap it off his handsome face, but she knew it was also deserved. Sir John did need only one look at Sir Brett and his companions to know exactly what they were: the strong warriors that had been missing from Banuilt for so long.

She had needed only one look to know it. They had not even had to display their fighting skills for her to know exactly what they were from the moment they rode into her bailey. It was revealed in the way they held themselves, in the way they moved, even in that arrogance that was so irritating her at the moment. It was certainly revealed in the movement of the four men who had suddenly appeared behind Sir Brett while he had confronted Sir John and now disappeared with equal stealth at just one flick of Sir Brett’s hand. Triona just wished Sir Brett had not informed Sir John of their intent to remain at Banuilt to give her aid.

“He didnae ken for certain that ye were staying here,” she grumbled. She noticed that at some point during their talk, all the women had slipped away and started to walk back toward home. “He could have been left to think ye were naught but guests who would be leaving soon. Ye didnae have to tell him ye were here for more, and ye certainly didnae have to throw that bit of information about your horde of kin at him.”

“Why does it trouble ye so that he now kens that we mean to aid ye?” Brett asked as he fell into step beside her. “For all he kens now, that aid could be nay more than a wee training of your men. ’Tis what we told him we would do.”

“Something he doesnae want to happen. He is better served if my men stay just as they are—good, fierce fighters if they are pressed to be, but verra few having had any real training at all. If I soon have a weel-trained force of men, Sir John will find it a lot harder to weaken us little by little, as he does now—weaken us until we have nay choice but to do as he wishes, just to survive. Once I have weel-trained men, he could see us as a true threat to him and then the blood will flow.”

“Have ye considered simply selling him the land he covets so much?”

“Only for a moment. I dinnae want to, and e’en if I decided that it was the only way to put an end to this, I am nay sure I can do that. I would have to closely examine all the records Boyd had. Mayhap Sir Callum will find something when he looks them all over.” She rubbed a hand over her forehead as the hint of a headache began to form. “That wouldnae make him leave us alone anyway. ’Tis nay all he wants.”

“He wants ye.” Brett was astonished at how angry that knowledge made him.

Triona frowned and turned to look at him. The hard, cold anger behind those three words surprised her, as did the look of fury on his face. She firmly told herself that it meant no more than an honorable man’s outrage over Sir John’s attempts to force a woman to his will. It could even be an anger stirred by the manner in which Sir John was doing it, through the harming of her people. Many men would consider marriage to Sir John a reasonable outcome, and would wonder why she, a lone woman, would be so foolish as to believe she could rule Banuilt without a man at her side. And not just at her side, she thought crossly, but telling her each and every thing that she should do, and just how to do it.

Once the trouble with Sir John had begun, a few people at Banuilt had suggested that a new laird might end it, that she might consider finding herself a husband to stand up to the man. Behind their words, however, had been no hint that they thought she could not care for Banuilt or its people very well, if not better than many a man could. There had also been no hint that the man she chose to help should ever be Sir John. Her people all knew who had done most of the work managing Banuilt since not long after she had married Boyd. He had had little interest in such things as the fields, the stock, or the need to send something to the market every year. The people of Banuilt were content with her as their laird, even if few others would recognize her as such. Even the very few who were uneasy with a woman sitting in the laird’s seat preferred her to Sir John.

It was now evident that Sir Brett saw no harm in her sitting in the laird’s place. The more she thought on the matter, the more she realized that none of the men with him did, either. Triona recalled tales of the Murray women told to her by her grandmother, whose aunt’s husband’s sister’s marriage to a Murray had given the family their tenuous connection to the clan. Every single tale had shown the Murray women to be strong, standing beside their men rather than merely bowing to their authority. It would explain why Sir Brett and his men did not hesitate to accept her authority at Banuilt. Sir John never had and never would.

“Sir John believes we should be married, rejoining the lands and placing him as laird over it all,” she said, seeing no reason to deny the truth. “I suspicion that he sees that as the easiest way to retrieve the land the king gave to that old laird of Banuilt. And Banuilt’s ancient lands as weel, lands far more fertile than the ones surrounding Gormfeurach.”

“And he gets ye in his bed. I suspicion he has wanted that for a verra long time as weel.”

Triona shook her head and started walking again, idly studying the trees as she walked the road that ran through them, noting that work was needed here as well. The undergrowth had been left to grow too thick, and there were trees that could be harvested, new ones planted. Boyd’s first wife’s grandfather had left very precise records and advice on caring for the woods, ones that she had followed closely. Boyd had found her diligence amusing, and acted as if he kindly indulged her when he allowed her to follow his first wife’s grandfather’s teachings. She was abruptly pulled from her thoughts when Sir Brett grabbed her by the hand and forced her, gently but firmly, to halt and look at him again.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Aside from this matter with Sir John, who tries to beggar Banuilt and force ye to wed with him?” Brett did not like how angry that made him, for it meant that she had touched him in some way in which he had not been touched in a very long time, and done so in but two days. But he could not smother the anger churning within him. “Ye dinnae see it, do ye?”

“Of course I see it,” she snapped. “I see it every time we put out another fire or lose more of our cattle or sheep. I am nay blind.”

“Ah, but ye are. It isnae just this land that mon is trying to steal. As I said, he wants ye, too.”

“Only because it is the easiest and most thorough way for him to grab hold of Banuilt. It may be mine, but once a mon lays claim to me, he will have a claim to Banuilt in most people’s eyes. Sir John sees it as a way to get all he covets without making anyone question him or grow angry with him.”

“Anyone being your liege laird.”

“Aye. That mon may nay like the fact that a woman now rules here, but so long as I maintain the alliance we have with him, sending him men and supplies when he needs them, he willnae move to change things. Sir John found that out quickly enough.”

“He asked your liege laird for permission to wed ye and take hold of Banuilt?”

“Aye, but I gather it isnae a thing he can grant, or he just didnae want to. He told Sir John that Boyd had named me his heir, and that was agreed to so long as I upheld the agreement between Banuilt and him. I was surprised and I am nay sure I trust in that reason, but until I can see exactly what is said in Boyd’s papers, or your cousin Callum—who may have more expertise than I do in checking the contracts made and legalities of my rights as laird of Banuilt—finds out, I must accept that.”

“Ye seem surprised that your husband would name ye the heir.”

“Och, aye, as he ne’er appeared to think me worth all that much because I didnae give him the son he craved. He did leave a verra fine dower for Ella, too, or rather made certain I understood that there should be one. ’Tis evident that Banuilt is one of those places that can go where the owner wishes it to. I would like to think my husband left it to me because he recognized the work I did here, but I think not. He just did as has always been done here, or mayhap to pay me back in some way for the money I brought him. There was no son to name heir and he would ne’er have considered leaving it all to a wee girl child, so he left it all to me.”

“Did ye nay consider that Sir John may recognize the work ye have done here and want your skill as weel as your land? His is a poorer keep, aye?”

“Only a wee bit poorer. Weel, when all is weel and we dinnae have to deal with fields burned and stock stolen.” She frowned. “I just cannae see Sir John recognizing my work, either. He has that same ill opinion of women that my husband had to some extent and our priest certainly had. If he thought what was good about Banuilt was my work, he would have to believe I was capable of more than planning what to set on the table and making a bairn or two. I dinnae think he does, nay about any woman.”

She was right in one way, but Brett did not completely dismiss the idea that Sir John was aware of the work she had done. The man might accredit it all to guidance by her husband or lessons taught by her father or some other man, but Brett could not believe even the man’s prejudices concerning women could completely blind him to who had done most of the work at Banuilt. If nothing else, Sir John would have known Sir Boyd well enough to know the man’s failings and strengths.

Sir John’s insults needed answering, but Brett had held his tongue. Despite presenting himself and making it clear that he and his men were helping Triona, he knew pushing too hard could cost her. Her men were not ready for a true fight with Grant. Nor were they prepared to protect Banuilt much more than they were now, from damage to their sources of food. Until some work had been done to get her men stronger and better able to fight, he had to be careful. That did not mean he could not continue to search out any and all information about the man.

Brett carefully moved closer to Triona, nearly smiling when she stepped back and ended up against the trunk of a tree. “I think he kens that ye are the one doing the work here and have been for a while. He may make many an excuse for it, giving credit to some mon for most of it, but he kens it. I suspicion he has wondered how ye might help Gormfeurach to prosper.”

“Weel, now that ye have told him what ye mean to do, he will be wondering how to end that,” she said, growing angry all over again. “I truly think it would have been best if he had remained ignorant of your promise to help us, at least for a little while longer.”

“Mayhap, but I dinnae think so. He was here to see us, to see me and my companions and get a closer look. I would wager his men mentioned us and that stirred his curiosity. It matters not. What’s done is done. Ye couldnae have expected me to stand silently in the shadows whilst he insulted and nay-so-subtly threatened ye, could ye?”

“Aye, I could. He does that all the time.”

“Weel, he can stop now!”

There was a hard note to his voice that made her shiver. The way Sir John had spoken to her had angered this man, and she found that both strange and intoxicating. She could think of no other man who had ever gotten angry on her behalf. Triona was a little surprised that she could find something like that so deeply attractive. It was not something she should become accustomed to, however, or depend upon. Sir Brett would not be a part of her life for long.

“I doubt he will. He thinks like too many other men do and he willnae change. ’Tis why I will do all I can to ne’er have to marry the fool.”

Brett placed his hand on the trunk near her head, lightly caging her between him and the tree. “Did ye ne’er consider it? It must have made ye pause for but a moment, to think on how much easier it would be for ye if there was help from another, from him and his men.”