Untamed Hearts (A Highland Hearts Novella) (Entangled Edge) (8 page)

“Damn devil,” Will swore and stopped, his hands curling around the hilt of his cutlass. Eric stood amongst the younger men. The sight of the lad shot lightning through Will. What the hell did the fool mean, he was just like Jonet’s dead husband? If the man ignored her, he was either an idiot, completely blind, or preferred men. And nothing like Will, who, no matter how he tried, couldn’t ignore her.

Searc walked up. “I’d be thinking ye’d be anxious to go down there and beat some sense into Eric.”

“If I start, I might not stop at a beating, and then you all would try to kill me, and more of your men would die. All around a bad omen for the birth of Caden’s babe.”

Searc chuckled. “Prudent of ye.”

Will turned to the boy, who was fast growing into a man. He frowned. “You think I’m not good enough for her.”

Searc thought for a long moment. “I suppose in all honesty, I don’t really know ye, but I know Jonet, and she’s…a really good person.” He looked at Will. “So no, I don’t think ye are good enough for her.”

It was honest. Will nodded. “I’m no saint.”
Hell.
He wasn’t good enough for a woman like Jonet Montgomery. He’d heard from an early age that he was good for nothing and no one; that was until Captain Bart had rescued him and taken him as his own son.

“None of us are saints,” Searc replied and shrugged. “But a man who purposely hurts a sweet lass like Jonet will suffer.” The silence stretched for a long moment. “Well, I’m headed down if ye’d like to come. Ye’re welcome, but ye can’t kill Eric.”

“Did you hear what he said to Jonet in the stables?”

Searc nodded.

“I don’t know Gaelic, and I have no idea how I could be like her foolish, dead husband who ignored her.”

“Is that what she said?”

“Aye, but I don’t know what it means.”

“It’s for her to explain if she wants.” Searc walked away.

Will cursed. He wanted answers and he was tired of the warnings. Normally, he’d stay well away from a complicated wench like Jonet. There’d never been one before that plagued his mind. But the green-eyed Highland lass was bewitching.

…

He didn’t see Jonet nor hardly any of the women of the keep until the next morning. A cluster of grinning, sweaty women came down the steps, causing all the waiting men and children to rise. Jonet stood in the front. Her eyes met his, and the joy he saw there melted the knot in his gut.

“’Tis a healthy boy,” she called out, and the room erupted in cheers. She looked away as a number of people came forward with questions.

One of Caden’s advisors, Old Kenneth, elbowed Angus next to him. “The old Macbain would rise from his grave if he knew his grandson had just been birthed in Alec Munro’s bed.” He chuckled and raised his ale in salute. “’Tis a new world.”

“That it is,” Bruce agreed and belched loudly.

“We will have the blessing and a celebration this evening!” Ann called from a chair she’d climbed upon to be heard. Another round of cheering broke out. “But now we’re headed to sleep,” she finished.

Will followed Jonet with his gaze. Twice she noticed but looked away rapidly, a little stain of pink in her cheeks. She stayed below just long enough to grab some food. Will watched the gentle sway of her skirts as she climbed back up the stairs.

Donald stopped by him. “Come hunt with us today for the feast tonight.”

“Do you have a bow I can borrow?”

“So ye know how to work one of those?” Donald laughed.

“I can shoot a gull flying twenty yards up and harpoon a thrashing shark.”

“Well now,” Donald slapped his back, “let’s see ye prove that boast.”

Will spent the rest of the day riding and hunting with the Druim and Munro warriors. Donald and Searc seemed vigilant on keeping him well away from Eric, who cast sideways sneers whenever he could. Will’s fingers had bruised the idiot’s neck, but he’d recover. The lucky bastard.

By the end of the day, he’d named the horse Ewan had given him after his captain and adopted father, Bart, both of them being headstrong and belligerent, and decided to keep the spirited beast. After all, Ewan had Gaoth. The steed had refused to move when a wild boar charged him, as if he could block the crazed beast after Will had jumped down to spear him. The fool animal would have been run through if Will hadn’t hit the boar right between its black eyes. Aye, stubborn as his father.

“Good hunting,” Donald said and nodded toward the hares tied to Bart’s saddle. The boar was dragged behind.

Will smiled. “These Highlands aren’t as dull as I’d imagined.” Donald and a few others laughed.

“And the lasses are the best in the world,” Gavin said. “Ye’ve seen lasses of the world. What do ye think?”

He could see the trap and smiled. “Ah now, I’ve met quite a few beauties.” He inhaled fully. “But I must say, Highland lasses smell the sweetest.” Half the men laughed immediately with the rest following after Gavin gave a quick translation.

“Jonet smells sweet,” Donald said and watched him carefully.

“Now, where I come from, a man doesn’t sniff and tell.” He met Donald’s piercing stare. Either he was sweet on Jonet himself, or the lanky man felt it his duty to be a big brother to her as well as Ann. Or as Searc had warned, all the Highlanders were watching out for Jonet. After a moment, Donald nodded.

At Munro castle, Will carried the huge beast to the kitchens and headed to the small lake for a swim. Was Jonet still asleep somewhere in the castle? What did she look like when she slept? That first morning at Munro Keep, he’d been jarred awake by one of the children crying on the other side of the room. He hadn’t had time to watch her slumbering before another woman needed his help finding the kitchens. Before he knew it, he’d been enticed to make his stew.

Did she make little mewing sounds or possibly snore? The thought made him smile. He hoped that she snored. She’d be utterly indignant when he told her.

He worked the soap that the cook had given him through his hair and over his body. What if he never got the chance again to see Jonet sleep? The thought bored into his chest, causing an ache. He stretched in the icy mountain water with each cutting stroke. Riding all day used different muscles than climbing masts and fighting. Soon the burn of exertion drove off the cold and his melancholy thought.

Of course he would get another chance. Will Wyatt didn’t give up. But then, what if she did want more? He didn’t want to hurt her, and he was definitely a scoundrel, although no other woman in all the world had caught his attention for so long, despite their open invitations. Hell, never before had he spared so much thought on a woman. He cut across the lake, pushing the churning thoughts from his mind.

The great hall was strewn with fresh rushes. Spring flowers swooped, linked together in garlands, along the stone walls. The minstrels from Druim were set up in the corner. Humphrey waved to him and pointed to his drum. Will chuckled and nodded. He’d take over the faster-paced rhythms.

The room was filling with villagers, some he recognized from Druim, and others he assumed were Munros. Both sides wanted to see the child possessed both Munro and Macbain blood. Their union and this child tied the two warring clans together in peace, ending the century-old war.

Will grabbed an ale and waited with Searc for the women and the babe to come downstairs. Ann stepped down first and waved her arms, bringing the crowd to an excited silence. Behind her came Jonet, followed by Meg in Caden’s arms, the new mother holding a small bundle to her chest.

The crowd cheered. Jonet smiled out at everyone, her face radiant. The dark circles under her eyes from earlier had faded. Good, she’d slept. Ribbons of blue slid along her dark curls. They matched the blue in her gown, cinched tightly at the waist and cut low enough to show the lace top of her chemise. Her gaze washed about the room, and he straightened. She turned her head, her eyes finding his face, and stopped. He nodded slightly to her, and a little grin softened her mouth as if she was truly happy to see him.

“Ah, woman,” he murmured. “Your heart is hard to hide.” It both warmed him and tightened his gut.

The blessing of the priest happened quickly. Caden stood so proud with his son, whom they named Kincaid after his mother’s family. Will walked up with Searc to spy the wee babe who slept through all the ruckus.

“My mother’s blood runs in the bairn,” Searc said and studied the little thing. “As does yours, Meg. Does he have a dragonfly birthmark?”

Will knew that Dory had such a mark. Perhaps all healers did.

“The dragonfly only runs through the women’s line,” Meg answered.

“But does he have any mark?” Searc pushed and touched the child’s wrinkled knuckles. “Perhaps with so much magic on both sides, he’s been born with some.”

“I haven’t seen him glow at all,” Caden said and smiled at his son. “Though he seems rather busy with sleeping and suckling.”

“He’s a handsome babe,” Will complimented as Searc moved off. “And I’ve seen my share of babes, though none quite this fresh.”

Meg seemed to study him for a moment, a knowing smile on her lips. “Every time I bring up your name, Will, her heart races,” she said softly.

He stood there watching the babe’s little fingers wrap around his own.

“It became a game through my labor,” Meg continued. “Jonet held me. Whenever I mentioned you, her heart would speed up, and her cheeks would pinken. She has strong feelings for you.”

“Meg,” Caden drew out, as if warning her, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Those strong feelings might not be good ones,” Will pointed out.

She smiled. “Oh, I think they aren’t too bad. But you need to talk to her. Don’t ignore her.”

Ignore?
The word resonated in Will, and he glanced around the room until he saw that cascade of dark tresses. She laughed at something Donald was saying. Absolutely breathtaking. Her husband had ignored her. It was just another word for not loving her. Will bowed to the happy new parents.

He stepped up to the small circle, and Donald switched to English. “Here he is, and as ye can see, quite whole despite trying to protect his horse from a charging boar.”

“Bloody Bart wouldn’t get out of the way,” Will said.

“Bart?” Jonet asked.

“I named our horse Bart after my father, Captain Bartholomew Wyatt.”

“I thought he was my horse,” Jonet said.

“You didn’t name him, so I thought he was without a master.” He winked at her.

“He even knows how to sit him now,” Donald chimed in.

“Bart will do practically anything for green apples,” Will said. “Except step out of the way of a charging boar.” They all chuckled, and Jonet smiled, a bit of her saucy ease returning. It was a start. The small victory warmed his middle. He leaned against the wall and watched her talk, her pink lips moving. God’s teeth, how he wanted to kiss them again, but he had to be patient. Wooing Jonet was the biggest challenge he’d ever undertaken before. That must be the reason each smile won from her made him feel like cheering.

Charissa ran toward him, Stephen trailing behind. He scooped her up in a hug. “Can we go?” she asked.

“Where, little one?”

“They are building a fire in the bailey and moving part of the celebration out there. I think the children are running amok in here,” Stephen said as if he was quite the adult.

“Of course, but don’t go out of the castle walls,” Will said and kissed her soundly on the head before depositing her back down.

Jonet took a step closer and brushed at his shirt. “Ye have tart crumbs all over ye now.” Her fingers whispered along his skin, but the result shot hot through him. Blast, he’d embarrass himself if he didn’t get control. He’d have to start wearing the Highland skirts soon.

“Thank you,” he murmured and grabbed her hand to tuck it into his arm and started walking. “Why don’t we see what the children are up to outside.”

Jonet continued beside him with Ann and Donald following. It felt good to have her there. A fire in a stone circle sat off to one side with children poking branches into it. The sun sank lower, and the flames cast dancing shadows on the bailey wall. Breads, rabbit pies, and cups of ale and cider circulated. The pork would need to cook longer, but more than one villager congratulated Will on the prize. Several benches ringed the fire pit, and they sat.

“I just might have an idea for a meal with the leftover pork,” Will said and grabbed a discarded stick. He drew a rough rendition of a boar. “Do you happen to have apricots this far north?”

“Nay,” Donald answered.

Will shrugged. “Maybe Cook has some apples I can use.”

“Whatever makes ye think to use fruit with meat?” Ann asked.

Will smiled at the young woman. “I like to play with foods, mix them into interesting combinations. A bored crew leads to trouble. I make certain they aren’t bored.”

“Yer captain must be having a hard time while ye’re away,” Jonet said and grabbed a stick herself.

“Well now, Captain Bart can handle his men, he did so before he found me. I just make myself useful.”

“He found ye?” Jonet asked. Will noticed the avid attention from the other two as well.

“Aye, in the hull of a slave ship headed to Asia. He was saving the children on board. I was one of them.”

“Do ye remember yer life before that?” Jonet asked.

Did he? He’d always blocked it out. He shook his head. “Not much.” He looked directly at Jonet. “Just a hazy feeling of being ignored.”

He didn’t look down, even though the feeling would have pushed him that way. Aye, he knew that feeling of being ignored, but for him, it was better than being under the cruel eye of a slave trader or harsh master. What did it mean for Jonet?

Charissa plopped into his lap. The boar’s tail was brought out to roast over the fire, and Will gave pieces to all the children, much to their delight. The day gave way to night as they ate and chatted. The children ran in a game of tag, and a light session of gameball got the kinks out of Will’s legs from riding.