Highland Surrender (32 page)

“If he’s given you no money, then this horse is still for sale.”

The groom swept his hat from his head and twisted it in his grimy hands. “Uh, well, m’lord, that might be true in a manner of speakin’, but he was powerful persuasive and told me not to sell them without his consent. Unless you’ve a mind to buy all seven, I’d not want to lose the rest of his business. Begging your pardon, sir.”

Robert joined them. “That’s a shoddy method. What if the man never returns?”

The groom pinked up under all his dirt. “As I said, m’lords, he was a might insistent. Seemed the type to not take no for an answer.”

“It’s all right, Myles. I don’t need this horse.” But her heart broke a little to say the words. She knew this mare was not her Gwynlyn, and yet for a moment, she had let herself remember a sweeter time at Sinclair Hall.

But her husband was not finished with this groom. “Tell me the man’s name, and I’ll convince him. If my wife favors this horse, then she shall have it.”

She flushed at his tone, both flattered by his will to please her but also uncomfortable for the sake of the groom.

“Really, Myles, I can choose another.”

“What’s the man’s name?” Robert prompted the groom as well.

The groom looked from brother to brother, sweat beading on his forehead. “Sir Goodman, m’lords. Late of Ballengeich, or so he says.”

Myles’s jaw clenched shut, while Robert’s head tipped back and he gave such a guffaw the gray mare flattened her ears and took a backward step toward the wall.

“Who is Sir Goodman?” Fiona asked. Any man who wrought such varying degrees of response from these two Campbells must be an intriguing fellow.

Vivienne joined them then, her eyes sparkling. “Did I hear you mention Sir Goodman? Is he on the prowl?”

“It seems he’s here in Oban,” Robert sputtered in amusement. “And he’s laid his claim on Fiona’s filly.”

“Who is Sir Goodman?” Fiona asked again, louder.

Myles shook his head and lowered his voice. “Suffice it say he is an influential man who prefers to keep his affairs private.”

Robert snorted. “Affairs, indeed. I’m sure he has several going on at this very moment.”

“Shh,” Myles hushed his brother and spoke to the groom. “Thank you for your assistance, lad. We’ll call you back if we have need.”

The groom bobbed his knobby head and stepped away.

Myles waited until the lad was far from hearing before he spoke. “If Goodman is here, he wants no one to know it. That groom will double the price if he knows who he’s dealing with. But what the devil is he doing this far west?” Myles directed the question to his brother alone.

“I cannot presume to know. Perhaps investigating the port in preparation for a journey?” Her husband frowned and ran a hand through his hair. He looked to the mare and then to Fiona. “Sir Goodman is an acquaintance who is at times most generous, but he can also be most contrary. Whether we can purchase this horse will depend entirely on his mood.”

Fiona felt ill at ease, creating such a stir over something as inconsequential as her choice in mare. She’d fallen in love with this one in an instant, but she could easily make a sacrifice and chose another. Lord knew she’d lost loved ones of greater consequence. This sting would pale compared to that other grief.

She touched her husband’s arm. “Truly, Myles, I can find another.”

His scowl softened at her tone, and he covered her hand with his own. “We will seek out Sir Goodman. Perhaps he’ll be amenable to some sort of trade.”

“Splendid idea,” Robert said, clapping Myles on the back. “I suggest we trade him the filly for Vivi.”

CHAPTER 33

O
BAN WAS RIFE
with alehouses, and Robert was certain they’d find Sir Goodman imbibing at one. Still, locating him proved no easy task. Fiona’s feet ached from walking on the cobbled street, and still they searched, poking their heads into establishment after establishment.

“Everyone seems to be drinking except for us,” Robert grumbled as they made their way into a stone pub with wide green doors. The place smelled of wet sheep. Vivienne sneezed.

’Twas there that they discovered him, sitting at a battered table and surrounded by a bevy of wenches. He was tall, redhaired, and about the same age as her husband. She’d expected someone older.

He spotted Robert and Myles and offered a lopsided smile and a wave. “Why, what fortune shines on me this day? ’Tis the brothers Campbell, I see. Join me, my fine fellows.” He smacked his hand upon the table and nudged a lass aside with his elbow. “Make room, you bonny maidens.”

The girls were reluctant to forfeit their spots. Some eyed Fiona and Vivienne with malice, while others looked over Myles and Robert in much the way the men had looked over the horses.
Fiona half thought one might step up and run a hand along her husband’s rump. She slid her arm through his and squeezed.

Sir Goodman blinked as if to clear his eyes, and a slow, curving smile took over his face. He stood up then and walked to them. “Why, this must be your bonny bride, Myles. Well done. Your king has done right by you, yes?”

His manner was altogether too familiar. He should not address her husband so casually or make remarks about her, but Myles seemed not to notice.

“Greetings to you, Sir Goodman. May I present you with my wife, Fiona Campbell. And yes, the king has my full gratitude. He is wise in every way.”

Fiona met the man’s eyes and found all cloudiness of drink had disappeared. He stared at her, shrewd as a hawk and with a predatory gleam. In an instant, she understood the groom’s hesitation to displease him.

She gave the slightest curtsy.

He took her free hand in both of his, rubbing his thumbs across the back. “Lady Fiona, ’tis a pleasure. When I was young, I had the delight of meeting your mother, and now I hope we can be friends as well.”

No other words could have surprised her more, but he let go of her hand and instantly turned to Vivienne. All of Fiona’s questions stuck in her throat like a clump of dried figs.

Vivienne curtsied deep and long, and batted her lashes like a coquette.

Goodman smiled. “You have not changed a whit, Lady Vivienne. How I’ve missed your smile. You must come to visit me again very soon.”

“Nothing would please me more, Sir.”

Sir Goodman smiled, his voice growing ever louder. “Oh, come now. No standing on ceremony on this fine day. Sit with
me awhile.” He turned to the tavern wenches, waving at them like flies. “Enough now, be gone with the lot of you.” He gestured to the barmaid to clean away the soiled cups.

Myles spoke as they took their seats just vacated by the sullen-looking wenches. “Sir Goodman, I hope this day finds you in fine health.”

“It does, Myles. And speaking of health, how fares your father?”

Fiona wondered at the question. It seemed news of the earl’s attack had traveled far.

“Improving by the day, Sir. Eager to be back in the saddle and resume his duties. I’ve attended to things in his stead, however, and all is well at Dempsey Castle.”

Fiona heard the pride in her husband’s voice and sat a little straighter in her own seat.

“Excellent. Your efforts will be rewarded.”

Fresh cups filled to the brim with foamy ale were set before them, and Robert scooped his up and took a hearty gulp. Fiona sipped her own and wondered at this stranger.

“Bring us a meal as well,” Sir Goodman instructed without bothering to ask if they’d recently eaten. Or if perhaps they had made other arrangements. They had not, of course, and Fiona was famished. Still, this man was beyond presumptuous, and something was amiss, for Myles and Robert behaved as if he were a noble of the highest order. The sparks of her curiosity burst into flame.

Sir Goodman took a hearty gulp of his ale and sat back. “That’s an ugly business about the attack,” he said, setting the cup back down. “Our enemies will stop at nothing to see Douglas back at the helm. But I’ll not stand for it. The traitorous cowards shall suffer for it.”

“Have you heard any news of who might be behind it?”

“News aplenty and not a lick of it reliable.”

Her husband nodded and stole a glance her way.

The serving girl returned and loaded down the table with plates of stew and bread. The conversation turned to the weather and other mundane things while they dined, but Fiona’s mind was whirling and it seemed to make her stomach whirl as well. She grew more certain by the moment that this Sir Goodman was something more than they pretended him to be. He dressed like a lowly farmer, and yet if he knew her mother, he must have spent some time at court.

It suddenly felt a lifetime since she’d read her mother’s letters. In some ways, it was another life, for her mother had rarely spoken of court. Or if she had, Fiona had been too young to understand. Yet, this man had known her and called her a friend. A desperate yearning to learn more filled Fiona with a long-buried ache, a need to understand who her mother had been and all that she’d been through.

Perhaps this Sir Goodman had some answers.

Myles had waited until the meal was nearly ended to bring up the mare, and he sensed his wife’s growing anxiety. When the conversation lulled, he made his move. “We were at the stables today, Sir, to find my bride a fine horse. That is how we came to know you were in town.”

Goodman took a drink from his cup. “Is that so? I intend to make a gift of a new horse to my wife as well.”

A thumping started in Myles’s temples. “Yes, I’ve heard your wife is a most accomplished horsewoman.”

“She is. You shall have to come and meet her when your father is well enough to travel.”

“We would be most delighted. I know both Mother and Father would be pleased to spend the time with you. Ah, there is another matter, Sir, I wondered if I might speak upon.”

Goodman tipped his head. “Speak, then.”

Myles rubbed his hands together under the table. “I must ask if you are set upon the mounts you’ve chosen from the stable. The groom informed us you’d chosen seven fine beauties.”

Sir Goodman wiped his mouth. “That groom’s a chatty fellow, nattering on about my business. Nonetheless, I’ve chosen seven, indeed. Six are matched to pull a carriage, and the other is for my wife.”

This did not bode well. Obviously, the gray was for his bride. He sensed Fiona gazing at him from the side, waiting for him to say more.

It must seem such a simple request to her, but Myles knew this man, and when it came to him, no request was trivial. Still, he’d promised her a horse, and that was the one she wanted. “I wonder if you might reconsider the gray, Sir.”

Vivienne and Robert stared down at their plates, while Fiona directed her gaze toward the man across the table.

Goodman sat back, a frown furrowing his brows. “Reconsider? I’m not prone to changing my mind. I should think you’d know that.”

“I know, sir. Of course. But my own wife has taken a liking to that horse as well.”

Goodman swung his gaze to Fiona. “Has she, now? You like that filly, aye?”

Fiona straightened her spine, the telltale lift of her chin a warning sign. Myles’s gut twisted. His bride was wholly capable of saying the most inflammatory things, and this was no man to toy with.

“I do, Sir,” she answered, calm and direct. “I had one just like her when I was a child. Were you truly friends with my mother?”

Everyone, save Fiona and Goodman, shifted uneasily in their seats at her abrupt question, and Myles wondered if they’d lose the horse and more.

Myles covered his wife’s hand and murmured. “This is not the time to speak of such things.”

But Goodman raised his own hand and leaned forward, his voice low but commanding. “Nonsense. I’ll not refuse the question.” He smoothed the front of his plain cotton doublet and took time refilling his cup with a pitcher from the table.

Myles stole a glance at his brother, and Robert offered a discreet shrug to indicate his shared bewilderment. Goodman took a hearty swallow and returned his stare to Fiona. She sat still as a statue.

“Indecision is a weakness. So I shall buy all seven horses, as I planned.”

Disappointment knocked at Myles’s heart.

But Goodman continued speaking. “However, I am also generous to a fault. And therefore, Lady Fiona, if you desire that horse, consider it yours, a wedding gift from me to you.”

Fiona gasped and pressed a hand to her throat. “Sir Goodman, there is no need to make a gift of her. My husband has the means to pay.”

Myles squeezed her hand to silence her.

A chuckle tumbled from Sir Goodman’s lips. “Has he, now? Then he should consider himself most favored. But I assure you, lass, I have the means as well. And as for your mother, yes, she was a most true and loyal friend. In fact, one might argue that had she not risked her life on my behalf, I might not now be king of Scotland.”

CHAPTER 34