Highland Master (9 page)

“Am I going to be punished?” Ella asked in a small, shaking voice.

“Ye are. I will tell ye what that punishment will be on the morrow. For now we will get ye down off these walls and back to bed.”

“But I didnae tell ye what my bad dream was.”

Triona looked at her child and nearly shook her head. One had to be firm with Ella. She was a sharp-witted little girl, and her curiosity constantly got her into trouble. When Triona had seen her standing there on the walls, alone, her heart had leapt into her throat, and it was not really back where it belonged yet. For a moment she felt a horrible guilt over the fact that her child had walked into danger while she had been kissing Brett, but she quickly shook it off. The other times Ella had put herself in some danger, Triona had been doing nothing that could be called neglectful or selfish. The child had a knack for putting herself in some kind of trouble, even if one stood next to her holding her little hand.

“Ye can tell me what it was as I take ye down from these walls and back to Peggy.”

“Let me carry her down, lass,” Brett said as he stepped closer. “Ye have those skirts to watch out for.”

For just one moment, Triona hesitated, finding herself reluctant to release her hold on Ella after seeing her in such danger, but then she nodded and handed Ella to Brett. The way the man settled Ella in his arms and told her to hold on to his neck made her certain he was no stranger to children. Ella revealed no fear of him, either, but clung tightly as he started to climb down the ladder that led to the bailey. Triona hurried to follow.

“Mama, I saw a ghostie,” Ella said.

“In your room?” Triona asked. “A bad ghostie or a good ghostie?”

“A good ghostie, but I was still afraid. It was a lady and she smiled at me. I thought she was wanting to eat me up.”

“Nay, ye didnae. Weel, unless she had some verra big teeth.”

“They were nay that big, but I didnae like a ghostie in my room when I was supposed to be sleeping. I think that was rude.”

“So ye climbed out of bed and came looking for me, wandering all over the place in your nightdress with nothing on your feet and, when ye saw me, decided ye would just climb all the way up onto the high, high walls to tell me that ye had a rude ghostie smiling at ye. Have I got that right?” Triona asked as she hopped down the last step to the ground and faced Ella, who still sat comfortably in Brett’s arms.

“Aye,” Ella replied a little warily. “I thought ye would want to ken all about it.”

“Ye could have called to me from down here. Ye could have woken up Peggy and had her bring ye to me. Ye could have asked any of the people I believe ye snuck around to bring ye here. Ye didnae have to come here all alone in the night.”

“Aye, I could have. I am going to have to do a really big punishment, arenae I.”

“I think it might be a verra big one.” She reached out to take Ella from Brett’s arms, ignoring the sharp amusement in his eyes. “I think ye ken it was a verra bad thing to do.”

“Aye.” Ella stared at the lace-trimmed front of her gown and idly toyed with the brooch pinned at her shoulder. “I willnae have to wash anything, will I? I dinnae like washing things.”

“I will think on it. Now say good night to Sir Brett, who so kindly carried ye down.”

“Good night, Sir Brett. I promise I willnae climb up the walls again when ye are busy kissing my mama.”

Brett bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing when Triona blushed so brightly he could see it in the dim light in the bailey. As she hurried back into the manor he saw the little girl looking at him over her mother’s shoulder, smiling at him in a way that told him she was a handful and probably always would be. Shaking his head, he turned around to find Brian standing behind him, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Kissing the lass who isnae your lass on the walls in the moonlight, were ye?” Brian asked, putting on a face so mournful it nearly made Brett laugh. “And seen by a poor, wee innocent lass, too. I am nay sure what to say about it.”

“Nothing would be good,” drawled Brett. “And that child may be wee, but I begin to think one should nay call her innocent, nay as ye mean it. She is and probably always will be a wee bit of a devil.”

Brian laughed. “Aye. I saw her tiptoe by, but didnae catch her ere she started up the walls. Decided it was safest to just be quiet and be there to catch her if she fell.”

“Aye, startling her would have been a mistake.”

“Nay fear in the wee lass.”

“Nay sure that is a thing a mother would like to hear.”

“True, a brave heart and daring when they are so small is a worry, but it will serve her weel when she is grown.”

“True. And I must assume that ye are out here walking about because your wife still hasnae welcomed ye back into her arms.”

“Soon. I understand now that I scratched at some old wounds, and I can be patient. She needs to see that my being a bit of a heartless bastard concerning Mavis doesnae make me the same sort of heartless bastard she was wed to in France.” He grinned when Brett laughed. “I will give her a few more days. I fell in love with a wounded lass, and I kenned it would be a while before all the wounds healed.”

“Sad. I wish we had kenned what was happening. We would have been off to France on the next boat, and that bastard would have been dead and buried ere she e’en realized we had arrived.” Brett nodded toward the manor. “This lass doesnae have such wounds, but I think her husband and all that has happened with Sir John has left her skittish.”

“Nay doubt. Harcourt and Callum are off looking for the trail of her men. Now that they ken a few things about it, I am thinking we will soon ken what has happened to them.”

“They are good at tracking people down.”

“Best I have e’er seen, and coming from the kin I do, ’tis a verra high compliment I just gave them. Just dinnae tell Harcourt. Your brother doesnae need anything else to feed his arrogance.”

“Callum often says the same.”

“So what are ye going to do about the lass?”

Brett looked around the bailey, easily seeing all that was good about Banuilt. He felt comfortable here, welcomed and needed. It was a good feeling. Although he would never marry a woman for her land or coin, he could see himself settling in here with ease. Triona’s people already came to him for advice on occasion, accepting him as one who could and would help them. He liked the land that surrounded the manor, liked the people, and liked the fact that it was a peaceful place. The longer he stayed, the more reluctant he was to leave.

The problem was that, if he decided he wished to stay with Triona, he was going to have to make sure she understood it was for her and not for Banuilt. Both her husband and Sir John were more concerned and more interested in Banuilt than her. Something like that could easily leave a woman doubtful of any man who expressed the desire to have her for his own. Since he himself had no lands and only a modest purse, he did not know how he would convince her that he was not after her properties. Brett knew she trusted him in most things, but also understood that old wounds could make her reluctant to trust in him when it came to the matter of marriage.

A simple solution to the problem would be if he had an equal fortune, in both land and coin. He did not see that coming his way anytime soon, however. There were ways he might gain such things, but they could take a very long time, and it would be unfair to just leave her to find such wealth when he could not even tell her when he might return. At the moment he had no real plans to ask her to marry him, but he also knew he needed to think on the possibility that he might want to do so.

Before he succeeded in seducing her, Brett knew he had to make a firm decision as to whether or not he truly wanted to stay with her. Triona was not a woman one seduced and then left. She was too tenderhearted and too innocent in so many ways. Despite how much he wanted her in his bed, he did not want to hurt Triona in any way, and he was certain that a woman like Triona would never be able to separate the needs of her heart from the needs of her body.

“I need to be certain that I wish to stay with her ere I take the next step,” Brett said.

“Seducing her into your bed, ye mean.”

“Aye, that. I think that she is a woman that one cannae really take as a lover, enjoy, and then walk away from.”

“Ye think she will fall in love with ye if ye bed her, is that it, ye coxcomb?”

“Nay, Brian. I do think she is a woman who cannae keep desire separated from emotion, and I cannae allow myself to just ignore that. Triona is a woman who tries verra hard to hide all that passion I ken she has inside her, just as she tries to hide her soft heart because she wishes to be a strong, competent laird.”

“That soft heart that tries to be understanding about her entire garrison deserting her and riding off to France?”

“Aye, that soft heart.”

“Ah, so ye are afraid ye might break her heart.”

“What I am afraid of is that
I
will fall in love with
her
once I have looked too closely into that soft heart and tasted that passion she tries to hide.”

Triona straightened up from scrubbing the threshold stone of the cottage she was cleaning and rubbed her lower back. Now that they had so many extra men at Banuilt, she had decided it would be a good idea to clean and mend a few of the cottages. There were a few repairs that she and her women could not manage, but the places would certainly be livable again when they were done. The skilled warriors could remain within Banuilt while a few of the men in training could move into the cottages for a while, giving them all a little more room. At the moment her back and knees were complaining loudly about that plan.

A part of her prayed that she would soon have her own garrison needing to be housed. There had been no word from Sirs Harcourt and Callum yet, but she had finally allowed a small piece of hope to embed itself into her heart. Both Brett and Sir Brian were confident that if anyone could find something out about where her men had gone, those two men could. She badly wanted the garrison back, and not just for the protection of Banuilt; she had come to know all the men in the garrison very well during her years of marriage and hated to think they were suffering somewhere.

The heated embrace she had shared with Brett last night had almost made her change her mind as to who should move into the village. The depth of what he had made her feel frightened her a little. A woman’s simple desire for a man was something she had felt she could deal with, perhaps even find some way to satisfy it, and her own curiosity about it, without everyone at Banuilt knowing what she had done. Brett made her feel so much more than that, however. He stirred far more than just her body’s needs; he set hope in her heart and dreams of a future in her mind. That was dangerous.

That was when Triona had briefly considered moving him and his men to the village. It would have put a nice safe distance between them, but she finally had to admit that it would have been cowardly of her. It could also have been seen as an insult to men who had freely offered their aid to Banuilt. And it would have been useless, she thought, as it was but a short walk from the manor to the village, and she and Brett would be coming face-to-face every day as he worked to help her, trained her men, and dined with her. He would still be a strong temptation to her. In fact, she thought with an inner grimace over her own weakness for the man, she would probably have to send him to France to have any hope of easing the temptation he presented.

Joan stepped out of the cooper’s cottage with a bucket of water that was blackened from the cleaning of the hearth, and moved to toss it on the ground a short distance away. “I am nay sure why we are bothering to clean these places,” she said as she looked at the threshold stone Triona had just cleaned. “’Tis men ye are meaning to put in here, and they willnae notice all the work we have done. Struth, they will be quick to dirty it all up again and then look about for us to come and clean it again.”

Laughing as she stood up and brushed off her skirts, Triona nodded. “Verra true. ’Tis needed, though. The manor is too full of men. E’en the peel tower that houses the garrison is getting crowded. Our untrained but eager garrison plus twelve more? Far too many. And I think it was needed anyway. We have left the cottages empty and uncared for, for far too long.”

“Aye, ye are right about that.” Joan glanced at the other cottages already cleaned or being cleaned by the other women. “It was looking sad here. I grew weary of looking at them some days. ’Tis as if each empty cottage was whispering that we have lost the fight and it would break my heart each time.”

“I got that feeling myself from time to time. It all began to carry that air of defeat. I dinnae think I could have abided it for verra much longer anyway.”

“And now that there will be some men in the village at night, I suspicion some of the women will go back to their own homes. Alone as we were, we felt much safer crowded together. Aye, there were still a few men about, but e’en they kenned they were little protection—being mostly old, infirm, or nay more than beardless lads. At least the ones returning here will ken which end of the sword ye should stick in a mon.”

Triona had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from telling Joan all she feared about their real garrison. Joan was so worried about Aiden, and yet she never complained. Until Triona had some word of what had happened to the men, however, telling Joan her fears would only worry her even more. Waiting, unable to do anything and not knowing the fate of the men, was a hell she did not wish to inflict upon her friend.

“And they will continue to be trained,” Triona assured her. “Every day. I am nay certain how long my cousin, her husband, and his men will stay, but Sir Brett and his men have all vowed to stay until the troubles we suffer are ended.”

“Aye, so I heard from Angus. That Sir Brett is a verra fine-looking mon, and I be thinking he likes the look of ye, m’lady.” Joan laughed when Triona blushed.

“He certainly is a verra fine-looking mon,” Triona agreed, “as they all are. And mayhap he does gaze at me warmly, but he isnae staying here. He and his men will help us because they see a need and are honorable men who see the injustice in what we are suffering. They will do as they have promised, but then they will leave, as they all have homes and kin to return to. And I will admit to ye that I feel most warmly toward him, but ye dinnae need to fear that I will act upon that.”

“And why should it trouble me if ye did?”

“Weel, I am the laird, and I should behave respectfully, with all honor and virtue.”

Joan rolled her eyes. “Ye sound just like your husband, God rest his soul, when ye talk like that. So righteous the mon was. Aye, he was old enough to be my father, but I did ken him far longer than ye did. So did my mother and father, God rest their souls. Sir Boyd always talked of honor and virtue and all of that, but wed his first wife for coin and this land, and then wed ye for the coin needed to pay for things for this land and, mostly, that manor. And he didnae do much more than train the warriors, try to breed a son, and act virtuous and honorable.”

“Ye didnae like him at all, did ye?”

“He was my laird and I respected that. E’en my parents did little more than that. We didnae dislike the mon, but he ne’er really gave anyone a reason to like him. My mother once said that she had ne’er met a more passionless or humorless mon in her life, that the mon was nay much like the ones who had come before him. Ye are the one who gave us a good life here, returned this place to what it was—and more—before Sir Boyd’s first wife’s grandfather died. I was pleased that my mother lived long enough to see the promise of ye, for she had oft bemoaned how neither the father nor the daughter’s husband had a true love of Banuilt. They just liked to sit in the laird’s chair and wave their swords about.”

Triona grimaced. “I fear I had that thought myself now and then, and then would feel so disloyal and ungrateful. Yet, I could ne’er fully shake the feeling. He didnae e’en like to talk about what needed to be done about plantings, or harvestings, or livestock. He always told me to speak to the steward or one of you, for ye would all ken what to do.”

“And so we do, but we need the laird to be certain we have what is needed to do it. Until ye came, all we had was that steward, and he was useless. But ’tis nay the laird’s failings we need to speak of, and one ne’er wishes to speak ill of the dead if one can avoid it. Nay, we need to speak of how ye have a verra fine mon smiling at ye and ye are nay smiling back like any lass with blood in her veins would do.”

For a moment Triona could only stare at Joan in shock. They had become friends within a fortnight of her arrival at Banuilt as Boyd’s new wife. Boyd had frowned upon her being so friendly with a mere weaver, but for once Triona had ignored him and his wishes. Only a few years older, Joan had become her confidante and her adviser. That the woman would now advise her to give in to her passion for a man who was not her lawful husband and would soon walk away from Banuilt, shocked her a little. She was pleased to hear, however, that Joan did not think she was smiling back at Sir Brett, so she had clearly kept her growing desire for the man hidden from most eyes.

“He is trying to seduce me, Joan, nay woo me. He looks for a lover, nay a wife. I am certain of that.”

“Mayhap that is what he looks for now, but that could change in time.” Joan shrugged. “And if it doesnae, then ye go on alone, just as ye did after Sir Boyd died, but this time ye will do so with a few verra sweet memories to ponder now and again.”

“Nessa said the same. She told me to work on that.”

“Good advice.”

Triona was about to express her concerns about losing the respect of her people when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Looking around to find out what had alarmed her so abruptly, she saw only the women working and the children playing. She frowned, for despite the peaceful scene she watched, the wariness that had gripped her so tightly did not fade away. A part of her thought to just shrug it aside, but she had always had a sense of danger and she had begun to learn how to trust in it. Looking down the road that ran through the village, she finally found the reason for her sudden unease. There were men rapidly approaching, slipping from shadow to shadow but close enough that even the shadows could no longer hide them completely from sight.

“Joan, ye and the women grab the children and run for the manor,” she said, never taking her eyes off the men still sneaking up on them, although she did her best not to be too obvious about it.

“What is happening?”

“Some men are trying to creep up on us. I cannae see how many there are, but they are nay ours. Of that much I am certain.”

“Then we had best run.”

“Nay, I will stand firm. Ye run and gather all the others to run with ye. Do your best to hide your fear until ye can play that game no longer, and then run as fast as ye can the short distance to the manor and tell the men what has happened.”

“Aye, and I mean it when I say ’tis best
we
get started then.”

“Nay. Ye get started. I will stay here to hold their attention, just as we always planned. It is the only way to give all the rest of ye a chance to get to the manor and let the men ken what has happened. We both ken that Grant is after me, so if these are his men, they will be here to try to catch me.”

“Ye cannae fight them all off by yourself.”

“I dinnae plan to even try. I but need to delay them so that the rest of ye can get out of here and sound the alarum. The children need to be gotten away, Joan. Go. Now!”

Despite how pale she had become, Joan walked away from Triona in a calm, steady manner. A quick glance was all Triona needed to tell her that Joan was warning everyone she passed as she walked away. All the women began to move, subtly pulling the children from their games and herding them in front of them. It was something they had practiced from time to time, always expecting Sir John to actually, and finally, openly attack Banuilt. Triona was pleased to see how well everyone had learned the trick. It was almost enough to make her feel like a true warrior who did what needed doing to protect her people.

Knowing that the women and children would start running soon, alerting the men that they had been seen, Triona kept one eye on the men and looked around for something she could use as a weapon. All that was at hand were a broom and a bucket. The bucket was solid and heavy, with a rope handle, so it would be easy to swing. If it struck a man it could hurt him badly enough to make him back off. The broom would, however, allow her to keep the man from getting too close. Because she realized she had very little chance of getting away from the men, she chose the bucket. At least she would leave them with some serious bruises when they took her.

She knew exactly when the women began to run, for one of the men cursed loud enough for her to hear. The men then rushed toward her as she stood her ground. Triona knew she was but a small, easily defeated obstacle, but she only had to make them pause long enough for the women and children to get to safety. As the first man came within reach, she swung the bucket and caught him on the shoulder, tumbling him to the ground, cursing and clutching at his arm. Maybe not such a small obstacle after all, she mused, and swung the bucket at the next man.

 

 

Brett was just walking out of the manor when a cry went up from the men on the walls. Instead of the gates being immediately shut, however, several men raced to them, standing and looking toward the village. He moved quickly to join them, thinking to order them to get the gates closed, and then he saw what they were watching. Women and children, some running on their own and some being carried by the women, were making their way to the manor as swiftly as they could. He realized the men were waiting to defend them if needed and shut the gates right behind them.

It was not until the women and children were nearly all inside that he understood what had happened. He could not see Triona. Brett began to push his way through the women, looking carefully for some sign of her. His hope—that she was just hidden in the crowd—was soon dashed. He could not find her anywhere.

Joan pushed her way through the crowd, a wide-eyed bairn in her arms, and after taking a moment to catch her breath, said, “M’lady stayed to hold them back so that we could all get here safely.”

“She thought to hold back the men attacking ye?” he asked, caught between astonishment and fear for Triona.

“Aye. ’Tis how we have practiced it for months now. She kens that Grant wants her and feared that if he actually attacked Banuilt, he would hurt us to get to her. So we practiced escaping while she drew all attention to her. I ne’er liked it and tried to get her to come with me, but she wouldnae.” Joan kissed the top of the bairn’s head. “I couldnae wait any longer and risk a child being left there.”

Brett saw Uven and Tamhas and waved them over to him. “Some men, probably Sir John’s, are in the village and Lady Triona is still there.”