The Bold Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (12 page)

Shortly after, they departed, heading north to Scotland once more.

And this time, Alec intruded upon Merry’s thoughts for a time. 
What was the man playing at?

She watched him curiously.

He was in a particularly cheerful mood, singing and whistling until Ewan barked for him to stop. He obliged. But it wasn’t long before he began to whistle under his breath again, gradually growing louder until Ewan finally threatened to gag him.

“We canna draw eyes toward us, Alec. Has your good sense left ye?” Ewan rebuked sharply, annoyance simmering in his blue eyes.

“It’s been too long since I’ve had any sense, I fear,” Alec replied with a smile and then turning toward Merry, sent her an all-too-knowing wink.

But then she was too distracted by Ewan to give him much more than a cursory glance. 
Aye, Ewan was a beautiful man. Powerful. Striking. He sat tall in the saddle, the lithe line of his thigh drawing her eye, and she couldn’t help but admire the wide set of his shoulders. Aye, authority sat well on them.

He must have felt her eyes upon him, for he turned to search her face, but she quickly looked away.

He then ordered them all to quicken the pace. “If we ride hard, we might yet reach Scotland afore sundown. Let us make haste!”

They continued their journey, meeting no one on the road. 
And as the morning waned, clouds heavy with the threat of rain filled the horizon. By the afternoon, the high, gusty winds brought with them another rainstorm. And u
pon reaching the river, they discovered the foaming, swollen waters had washed away the bridge, rendering the crossing impassable.

Ewan retreated the group at once to the forest, and they dismounted under the eaves and watched the sheeting rain.

“And is there no other bridge?” Alec asked impatiently for the third time. His mood had darkened with the passing of the day.

Ewan threw him an exasperated glance. He’d already answered the question several times. “We’ll lose a day’s ride at least, but we have no choice. We’ll head east on the morrow,” he grunted, wiping the rain dribbling down his forehead with the back of his arm. “But we’ll travel no more this night. ‘Twould be too treacherous.”

Leading them to higher ground, Ewan pushed through the low-hanging branches, finally finding a suitable place to rest for the night.

Wet and cold, Merry dismounted, and in spite of the dampness surrounding them, Ewan started a fire as Lothar silently distributed the last chunks of stale barley bread and bits of dry cheese.

No one spoke for a time. They were cold, tired, and still somewhat hungry, but as the fire began to burn brighter, their spirits rose.

With a wordless question, Lothar pointed to Merry’s bow, and at her nod of permission, the quiet Frank picked up the weapon and disappeared into the gathering gloom.

“Let us pray he finds a deer,” Alec drawled, absently scratching the bridge of his aquiline nose. “I’d devour it all, and the king’s men wouldna even find a single hoof to hang us for the poaching of it.”

Merry smiled.

Even Ewan’s blue eyes crinkled around the corners in amusement.

And then Alec yawned and, catching Merry’s eye, said in a teasing tone, “I’ve been wondering, lad. Do ye shave every day? There’s not a whisker on ye.” He flashed a conspiratorial smile.

Merry scowled, irritated. “Nay,” she nearly growled. “It pains me deeply that I canna grow a beard.”

She cast a quick glance Ewan’s way, only to see his white teeth flash in what could have been a smile. But he turned away before she could be certain.

“Well, there’s no great pity, lad,” Alec continued unrepentantly. “The lasses prefer a man clean-shaven. ‘Tis less of a prickly kiss, I’ve been told.”

“Aye, ‘twould seem so,” Merry agreed as she watched Ewan somewhat distractedly. She had yet to see him truly smile. Or laugh.

“Then mayhap I should start shaving more regularly, aye?” Alec was saying. “There’s a lass I would wish to see me as a braw man. Aye, she has the bonniest brown eyes this side of the Forth.”

Ewan’s shoulders tensed at that.

“The Lord Warden’s daughter?” Merry teased with a yawn, grateful the conversation had steered away from herself.

“Nay,” Alec said in a light tone. “A much lovelier lass, to be sure. One who could melt a man’s heart, even if it were made of ice.”

The look came into his eyes then. The same look she’d seen before. And this time, she knew what it was.

Desire.

“Nay, feelings of love are best kept at bay,” Ewan’s deep voice rumbled. “There’s naught to be gained from rekindling those slumbering flames.”

Growing all at once uncomfortable, Merry sprang to her feet. “I saw wood sorrel not far away. ‘Twill sate our hunger until Lothar returns.”

“I’ll go with ye,” Alec volunteered. “We’re still in England. I’ll stand watch.”

Merry frowned but, shrugging her shoulders, tramped into the surrounding wood with her annoyance growing with each step. And when she was satisfied Ewan could no longer hear her, she whirled around to face Alec.

“I dinna care for the way ye keep secrets, Alec Montgomery,” she said, her brown eyes flashing, and then mimicking his voice, she added,
“Do ye shave? There’s not a whisker on ye!”

He merely looked down at her with an easy smile fixed upon his lips. “Ach, there’s no harm done,” he protested. “But I’ll not anger ye. Tell me your name and I swear I’ll stop.”

She snorted. “I’ll hold ye to it,” she snapped. “Moridac. My name is Moridac.”

He rolled his eyes. “Your true name, ye wily lass,” he insisted.

“Make yourself useful, ye daft oaf,” she replied instead, kneeling to yank some wood sorrel growing in a cluster near a fallen tree.

“Aye, I’ve made my share of mistakes,” he said, his voice suddenly soft. “But I’ve lost interest in my scandalous ways.”

Merry laughed outright. “Aye? And for how long? A day?”

He didn’t share her laughter. Instead, he knelt beside her and, locking his gaze with hers, began pulling foliage from the ground. “What twist of fate brought ye here?”

She met his eyes steadily and then pointed to what he held. “Stay your hand, ye fool. ‘Tis vetch you’ve picked. Even your horse knows to stay away from that!”

“Ach, they’re both green,” he replied with a lazy smile, and slowly, he reached over to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She held still a moment.

But then, standing abruptly, she spun around, only to collide into a broad, solid chest.

Chapter Six – “Take My Hand”

Not really stopping to consider why, Ewan strode through the damp underbrush after Alec and Merry. He arrived just in time to hear Alec declare that he’d lost interest in his scandalous ways.

Ewan paused, intending to shamelessly eavesdrop when Alec reached over and brushed a bit of Merry’s hair back from her face.

A response rippled through Ewan. A response he was unprepared for.

He swallowed. Hard. There was no denying it.

‘Twas a hot wave of jealousy.

From the very start, Merry had stirred his blood, and it was only worsening with time. Her humor, her daring spirit, and her loving heart wove a stronger net around him by the day. 
He’d almost kissed her in the village. That still astonished him. He’d wanted to taste her lips again, slowly, in a soft lingering touch of sweet abandon. It had taken every ounce of his strength to install a brotherly peck upon her forehead instead.

He knew he was not the right man for her. 
Nay, Merry MacLeod—his dearest friend’s wee sister—deserved an honorable light-hearted man to match her loving, high-spirited ways, not a battle-weary warrior with haunted dreams.

But then, she leapt to her feet, and whirling, ran straight into his chest.

He drew his breath in sharply as the scent of her hair filled his nostrils, and the mere softness of her clouded all other senses. Ignoring a stab of sweet longing to pull her close and simply cradle her in his arms, he willed his rioting emotions into submission.

Stepping back, he grated, “Ye shouldna stray so far from the fire. ’Tis unwise of ye both.”

Merry stiffened momentarily at his tone, but then with a preoccupied smile, reached over and patted him on the arm—much in the manner one would pat a child on the head.

“Ye shouldna fret so, Ewan,” she consoled, her brown eyes warm and vibrant. “Ye really should be resting, aye? Ye dinna sleep as ye should.”

“Aye, there’s no need for ye to be here,” Alec muttered irritably, sending Ewan a questioning sidelong glance.

He was right. They both knew it. But Ewan wasn’t about to admit it.

Folding his arms, he fixed Alec with a stern glare, expecting the man to yield and move as ordered. 
It usually worked. 
But this time, Alec didn’t move, save to obstinately raise his chin instead.

“Dinna be ungrateful, Alec,” Merry chided him with a disapproving scowl. “Ewan’s ever on the alert, watching over us. Let us all return now, aye?”

However, Alec scarcely paid her heed. Rising to his feet, he crossed his arms and locked gazes with Ewan in an outright challenge.

It could only mean one thing.

As he’d suspected, Alec had somehow discovered Merry to be a lass. 
And
that
‘twas downright disconcerting, to say the least. 
The rascal of a Montgomery had just landed them all in a dungeon for dallying with the Lord Warden’s daughter. He was hardly a man worthy of Merry MacLeod.

And then Ewan became aware of Merry shaking his arm. She was standing close. He could feel the warmth emanating from her skin, and a wave of protectiveness reared up within him.

“Have ye taken a blow to the head, Ewan?” she was asking, her brown eyes twinkling. “Let’s go, aye?”

“Aye,” he agreed, a wee bit rattled. Stepping back, he waved an inviting hand to Alec. It wasn’t really an invitation. Alec would know it for what it was—another command. “After ye, Montgomery.”

Montgomery. 
All of his men knew well he would only address them by their surnames when he was angry and expected immediate obedience.

Alec clenched his jaw. He stood there, his feet planted firmly on the ground. But as Merry then sent him an inquisitive glance, he suddenly complied. Looking as if he’d much rather do anything else, he stepped forward but paused the moment he drew abreast of Ewan.

“Nothing escapes ye, does it,
MacLean?
” he inquired in a voice laced with frustration. “I swear ye have the eyes of a hawk.”

Ewan’s jaw twitched, and then leaning close so only Alec could hear, he looked straight ahead and, barely moving his lips, hissed a warning. “Leave her be if ye have a whit of sense. No games, or I’ll have your head, I swear it.”

Alec cast him a look, at once wounded and angry, and then they went back to the camp in somber silence to await Lothar’s return.

As the light of day had almost been spent, the Frank returned with several plump rabbits, which were soon put to spit and roasted. The group remained silent until all had eaten and, succumbing to weariness, they fell asleep.

All except Ewan.

He sat, staring into the dying flames, lost in thought for a time, before lying back and folding an arm over his face, in the hopes a deep sleep would overtake him.

But as usual, his night was fitful and provided little rest.

* * *

The group rose at first light, and under a lead-hued sky, they headed east for a time. 
However, the recent rains had rendered the roads treacherous, and the going was even slower than before. The horses sunk into the mud past their fetlocks, their hooves making sucking sounds as they squelched through the muck.

By noon the sun had succeeded in piercing the haze to make their journey a bit more pleasant.

A short time afterwards, they came to a crossroads, and this time, chose the northerly road. But they’d gone less than a quarter of a league when Ewan’s horse began to markedly favor a leg.

Dismounting, he knelt beside the gelding to see that its fetlock was hot and swollen.

Ewan frowned.

The horse would not be traveling much farther, that was certain.

“I feared so,” Merry sighed, slipping down from Diabhul’s back to join Ewan. She gave the gelding a sympathetic pat on the rump. “We’ve been riding too hard for ye, old lad, haven’t we now?”

“There’s a hamlet not far down the road. Mayhap we can trade him in for some provisions, aye?” Alec suggested, joining them to peer at the gelding’s leg. “Aye, that’s a hoof that willna be touching Scotland.”

Grabbing a stick, he gave the horse a little poke.

Swearing, Ewan leapt out of the way, pushing Merry back as the gelding lashed out in response.

“Are ye daft, Alec?” Ewan growled.

“’Tis the only way to see how sore he is,” Alec said with a shrug.

And then the sound of giggling caused them both to turn.

Merry was sprawled in the mud and muck. Chuckling, she floundered a bit, trying to rise. “’Tis a bog in the making here,” she said, slipping and falling to her knees.

“Forgive me,” Ewan said, reaching down with a scowl.

“There’s naught to forgive,” she answered. “Mud is better than a hoof to the head, aye?”

“Then allow me to aid ye,” Alec inserted himself, knocking Ewan’s hand away to extend his own. “’Tis my foolishness that landed ye there now.”

Ewan arched his brow and sent Alec a cold stare. “The lad doesna need your help,” he said.

“Though he needs yours?” Alec challenged with a flare of his nostrils.

Merry looked up at them a little surprised and rolling her eyes, slapped both of their hands away. “I can very well help myself, ye fools—”

But before she could finish her words, Ewan stooped, and placing an arm about her waist, lifted her upright.

She blinked, surprised. And then removing her sodden cloak, she strode to Diabhul, past the silent Lothar sitting on his horse and observing them all with folded arms.

Alec’s voice then hissed in Ewan’s ear. “Do ye think I canna win a woman’s heart?” he charged acidly.