Highland Promise (8 page)

        The king glanced at her again, then jerked his gaze away. "Hummm." He looked at the board and made his move in a distracted manner. "How do you think a new bride will handle your presence? She will surely wish to take over."

        Faith wanted to laugh. Her wart was driving the king daft, or he would be trouncing her as he had threatened. She made her move and smiled. "I would never presume to interfere with the new Lady Hawkurst."

        "I did not think you would." The king assessed the board with furrowed brows. He glanced at her and barely stifled a groan as he looked away. "I am interested in your future."

        "Have you won Normandy at last then?" Faith asked before she could stop her unruly tongue.

        "Do not be impertinent. I can deal with both a loyal subject and Normandy at the same time." The king made another move then met her gaze. "'Tis past time you wed."

        "Pardon me, Sire." Burn crept through her cheeks. "I truly do not mean to be impudent, but I do not wish to wed. I wish to become a nun." She moved her rook. "Check."

        King Henry frowned and stared at her wart. "I appreciate that you are honest with me. Your father once told me of the penance you were given. I also know his reasons for denying the penance." After a few moments of deliberation, he moved a game piece. "While you are here, you will consider the eligible men, and we will discuss this further."

        "As you wish, Sire." Faith's mind raced. She needed a plan. She could almost feel hellfire scorching her toes. She must either change the king's mind, an unlikely endeavor, or escape before he chose a husband for her. Pasting a calm expression on her face, she moved her bishop. "Checkmate."

        "Damnation!" the king scowled, then laughed. "I still do not know how you manage it."

        "I promise to tell Your Grace my secret before I depart." Faith smiled, hiding the unease weighing in her belly. "But I must caution that 'tis probably not a strategy Your Grace will wish to employ."

        After a preemptory knock, Leland entered and bowed to his king. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I was detained and did not know you had sent for my sister."

        King Henry glared at the intrusion, then waved a hand toward Leland, indicating he should rise. "I wished to see her alone for a quiet game of chess and to discuss her future."

        "By Your Grace's leave, I have found a husband for Faith. My own commander, Edrik, desires her for his wife."

Five

        He knew the instant she entered the hall, as if her spirit called to his. It was damned aggravating. He had been right in the middle of a sentence, and all thought deserted his mind.

        Brendan turned his back on Roland, Michael, and Jamie and watched Faith's progress on the arm of her king. Something was different about the lass. He scowled, realizing just what the change was. She kept her head bowed in a subservient manner. It was one thing to show respect for one's monarch, but another to project an air of inferiority. Sutherlands were inferior to no one. He would instruct the lass soon on this score.

        As if she sensed his scrutiny, Faith gazed directly at him and smiled. A dazzling smile that made her eyes dance. It stole his breath away.

        Fear crossed her face. She glanced covertly about, then bowed her head.

        He realized she hid her eyes as the king suggested she would. Aye, the lass could add a wart and create an illusion of fat, but her inner strength and zeal showed clearly through her eyes. And she knew it.

        Baron Hawkhurst followed the pair like a surly puppy. He glanced toward a swarthy Englishman dressed entirely in black. The young baron shook his head slightly. The Englishman tightened his lips, and his glower shot dirks toward Faith. Brendan didn't know what inspired such wrath, but the man bore watching.

        While King Henry conversed with several barons, Faith slipped over to a vacated corner, adjacent to Brendan. He shook his head. The lass may have no use for court, but if she had meant to spend her time in solitude, her plans were crushed.

        A bevy of mothers with homely daughters swarmed her. They sought to place their offspring beside Faith, no doubt hoping the comparison would display their daughters to advantage. She spoke with them in a dignified and polite manner, drawing conversation from the shyer maidens.

        Bits of their discussion drifted toward him. Many of the matrons sought advice from Faith on everything from how to remove spots from a prized tapestry, to dealing with difficult serfs, to managing hounds in the hall. She sounded quite knowledgeable for one so young, and he understood what Baron Rothley meant. A woman capable of directing a large keep was indeed a treasure.

        Brendan wondered how the haughty court women would react when that damned disguise came off.

        "Well, laird." Roland slapped Brendan on the shoulder. "Have you looked your fill at the lass so we can get back to our problem?"

        "Put a guard on Lady Faith," Brendan ordered.

        "I'll set Cleit to first watch," Roland replied. "Now, as to other matters?"

        Brendan massaged the back of his neck as his plaguing headache returned. "That Irishman will be the death of me. Where is Tormey?"

        "He was last seen entering the chamber of Baroness Wilford," Jamie supplied. "The lady's husband is the podgy baron speaking with the king."

        "For the love of..." Brendan wiped a hand over his face in exasperation. "Why my father took on the training of an Irishman eludes me. I never should have allowed him a rank in my guard."

        "The man won his rank," Michael reminded him.

        "The man has no honor," Roland said, scowling.

        "Roland, go with Jamie to find Tormey," Brendan ordered. "I wish to speak to him before we retire for the night."

        "Aye, laird." Roland and Jamie left.

        Michael moved beside Brendan. A shrill female laugh arose above the droning, and the warrior grimaced. "There is a festival by the Thames, Bren. By your leave, we wish to partake of our evening meal there."

        "Seeking better climes?" Brendan asked with a wry lift of his brow.

        "I doubt we'll find better climes until we return to the hills."

        "By all means, go. I see no reason for all of us to suffer this mediocrity. Just keep an eye on Tormey if he accompanies you. I'll not have him involved in a scandal with some tavern whore while we're here."

        "Laird Sutherland," a page said, catching Brendan's attention. "His Grace has called for the feast to begin and desires your presence at his table."

        Brendan nodded and bid farewell to Michael. Approaching the head table, he noticed Faith was once again with King Henry.

        "I desire you at my side while I dine, Lady Faith," the king said. "You will sit to my left."

        A servant drew out the wide chair, which seated two, and Faith settled in her place. Her brother moved to sit beside her.

        "Baron Hawkurst, you will sit with Lady Imogina," King Henry ordered. "The two of you should become better acquainted."

        Leland bowed to his king and moved down the table to the king's right to join his shy betrothed, who had reached the great age of thirteen.

        "Ah, Laird Sutherland," the king said as if he had just noticed Brendan's presence. "Come share a trencher with Lady Faith. She is one of my favorite people."

        Faith's palms fisted in her lap. She glanced at Brendan fleetingly as if afraid he might give her away. Then she hesitantly raised a hand toward him.

        "I am honored to meet you, milady." He took her hand and bowed. "Your king boasts of your virtues." He felt a shiver move through her arm into his fingers.

        She cast him a quick glance of thanks and bowed her head. "'Tis I who am honored, milord."

        Her dusky tones rippled through him, and a feeling of warmth spread inside his gut. Trying to ignore his response, Brendan sat next to her, taking up most of the seat. Her light feminine fragrance cloaked him. Without much thought, he pressed his thigh against the full length of hers under the table.

        She released a tiny gasp. He glanced down. Her pulse bounded in her neck, and her color rose high. Glad she suffered the same affliction as he, Brendan couldn't help taunting her. "Are you well, milady? You appear a wee bit flushed."

        "I am fine." She fanned her face with her hand. "'Tis a trifle warm."

        "'Tis a flush of victory, I'll wager," King Henry declared. "The lady just led me into checkmate in eight moves."

        "Your Grace had important matters on his mind," Faith defended. "Otherwise I doubt I could best you with my paltry skills."

        "There is nothing paltry about your skills." King Henry grinned at Brendan and lifted his cup. "She promised to tell me her secret strategy before she leaves court. I am holding her to it. 'Tis my belief that promises should be honored."

        Brendan nodded, understanding the message and wondering if the monarch had informed Faith of their impending union. The king turned to take up conversation with Queen Maud, who sat to his right.

        Brendan placed his mouth beside Faith's ear and whispered, "I too keep my promises."

        Faith leaned toward him and mimicked his hushed tones. "'Twill be tricky getting away undetected. Your leg is pressed against mine. I am working on a plan."

        "A plan for what?"

        "Getting away when you leave court." She peeked cautiously about the table from beneath long sooty lashes. "The king speaks of wedding me to some lout, so we need to go soon. I wish you would move over a bit. I do not want Leland to know I am gone until it is too late for him to catch us. Can you meet me privately later?"

        He was having trouble following her. "To make plans?"

        She shook her head. "So I can return your plaid. I do appreciate your kindness in lending it to me."

        "You will keep it."

        She stiffened. "I cannot. Only a member of your clan should have your colors."

        Brendan sighed. He would have to move slowly with the lass, which was a damned nuisance. If King Henry would order the wedding, then he wouldn't have to worry about her reaction to every little thing. She would do as she was told. "You will wear my colors when we enter Scotland, so all will know you are under my protection."

        "Oh." She smiled. "I suppose 'tis all right for me to keep it then. I can return it when we reach Saint Bride."

        Brendan rolled his eyes and speared a piece of meat in their trencher with a plain black-hilted dagger.

        Faith grabbed his wrist. She looked toward her brother, then quickly released Brendan's arm and bowed her head. "What happened to your dagger? You had such a lovely weapon when we walked on the trail."

        He studied the dagger, wondering about that himself. "'Twas missing from my chamber this afternoon. I have yet to find it."

        "I do hope you find it before you leave. 'Twould be a shame to lose such a fine weapon." She tore a piece of crust from the edge of the trencher and placed it in her mouth.

        "Faith," Leland called. "How go preparations at Hawkhurst?"

        Faith gulped down her bread and gripped the table edge. "The keep is...ah, at this moment...as ready for your bride as I shall ever make it."

        At her twisted truth, Brendan chuckled in her ear. "At least I shall always know if you are lying. You do not do it well."

        She jabbed his side with her elbow. "You are trying my patience."

        "Have some wine. 'Twill calm you down."

        He held the goblet to her lips. She swallowed the ruby liquid while reaching for the cup. Their fingers brushed. She jerked back and gazed up at him. Worry tugged at her brows. "You confuse me, Brendan."

        Damn, she wanted him—he could feel it. Knowing she wanted him stirred his own ardor. He must be turning into a rutting-stag to feel such lust for this woman he barely knew, a woman who looked like a stubby fat witch, even if she was in disguise. He took a gulp of wine, set the goblet back on the table, then muttered, "Hell."

        She thrust her elbow in his side and glared. "I have told you not to curse. I shall not tolerate it."

        "You'll get used to it. You will also learn to keep your jabbing elbows to yourself and not to give me orders."

        "With my luck you will probably curse all the way to Scotland. And someone needs to give you orders to bring your lofty ego out of the rafters."

        "My king already has. He ordered me to marry an Englishwoman." That called for more wine. Where was good whisky when he needed it? Brendan grabbed the goblet and took another hearty swig.

        "Who?" She anxiously gripped his arm. She just as quickly released him and glanced toward her brother.

        "He did not say. 'Tis for me to choose." He saluted her with the goblet.

        Faith scowled and grabbed the dagger from his hand. Then she viciously speared a piece of pork from the trencher and waved the bite at his face. "Well, I feel pity for her."

        Her moods changed too damn fast. He felt like being perverse. "You should pity her. I intend to make her life a living hell." And he damn well hoped she remembered this conversation during their wedding.

        "You will not have to work hard at the task. As surly as you are, any young bride might confuse you for a demon," she countered in a sarcastic tone his enemies would fear to use with him. "I shall help you choose. Aye, I'll find you someone who will not cave under your domineering arrogance." She shoved the meat into her mouth and chewed, giving him a fierce look.

        His gaze was drawn to her lips. They were too full to be called bonny, but they looked damned kissable. Hell. "Fine. Meet me in the garden later, and we shall discuss it."

        Her entire demeanor underwent a dramatic change. She placed his dagger on the table in front of him and rested her hands in her lap. Her gaze shifted cautiously toward Leland who was glaring at their whispered conversation. "I cannot. I have just realized how dangerous that could be. We should avoid each other until 'tis time to leave. If Leland becomes angry, he will set Edrik to guard me, and Edrik is a...worry."