Winning the Highlander's Heart (45 page)

“Ye were not man and wife,” Fontenot accused, his words full of hate, the sweat pouring from his brow.  He bumped into another man fighting with Dougald, then quickly gave them space.

Malcolm thrust his sword at Fontenot, who fell, landing square on his back with an oof, the hard packed earth knocking the breath from him.  Malcolm slammed his boot on his chest and held his sword tip at his breast.  “The lady was sick with the cold, and ye would have tossed her from the bedding with nay concern to her well-being.  Or ye had it in mind to bed the lass had I no’ kept my sword readied to gut you if you had tried, ye whoreson.  Give me a reason I should let ye live.”

Fontenot’s chest heaved, his eyes narrowed.  “I am the king’s choice for the lady, and he will have your head for taking her innocence.”

“Ye are a traitor to the king and have stolen away the life of the lady’s beloved uncle.”  Malcolm plunged his sword into the baron’s heart, for Anice, for her uncle, for the others the baron had ordered murdered.

Fontenot cried out, his eyes glazed over, and he grunted, “Ye were not married.”

Thinking of what Anice so oft said, Malcolm replied with a sneer, “’Tis no concern of yours, Fontenot.  ‘Tis no’ your concern.”

Fontenot’s eyes held death, no longer blinking; the baron no longer a threat to Malcolm’s beloved lass.  Malcolm swung around, seeing Angus managing to fend off the hoard and his brother fighting as if he were a Viking berserker possessed.  But he couldn’t believe his eyes when he spied Gunnolf, the blond bearded Norseman who served as his bodyguard, swinging his ax at the enemy.  When had he arrived and what had become of Mai?

Malcolm bolted for the tavern, and when he reached Morrigan, he touched her moon-pale cheek, then felt her neck, finding a feint pulse.  Blood pooled on her temple from where someone had struck her.  He shoved his sword in its scabbard and grabbed the lady up.  Carrying her into the tavern, he knew it to be safer than were she’d lain in the square, but his mind focused on Anice and what had happened to the lass.

Upon entering the tavern, he saw her tied to a chair in the corner of the room, her mouth gagged, and her eyes wild with fear.  His heart nearly stopped.  Kemp lay on the floor near her feet, his eyes closed, a knot as big as his fist on the side of the lad’s temple.

On the other side of the tavern, a redheaded man waved a sword in the air and shouted in Gaelic, “Ye will grant me safe passage or the lady dies.”  He worked his way back toward Anice maneuvering around tables, as Malcolm lay Morrigan on a table.

“Ye be MacKnight?” Malcolm asked, advancing on the man and withdrew his sword from its scabbard.  “Ye be the one who killed the lady’s uncle?”

MacKnight tried to move toward Anice, his sword hand shaking, his cheeks blazing red, his green eyes fearful.

Not about to let the brigand get any closer to his wife, Malcolm lunged forward like a lion intent on killing the threat.  The dull ache in his arm dissipated, the weariness he’d felt from battling faded until all he saw was a man who would die before he murdered another soul.

MacKnight tried to run for Anice, but Malcolm jumped into his path, his unbound hair bristling with tension, anger filling every pore.  “Ye had your wife poisoned?  And Laird Dunstan as well?  A woman’s way, ye cowardly son of a whore.  And Thompson, did ye cut him down in a fair fight or have your men take care of him, too?  Ye are nothing but a coward.”

Rattled, MacKnight slashed at Malcolm.

“Been the steward of the castle too long?  Havena fought enough of your own battles, mon?”  Malcolm knocked MacKnight’s sword aside.  “As the new laird of Brecken Castle, I condemn ye for the death of Laird Dunstan.”  With a violent thrust, Malcolm pinned MacKnight to the wooden wall, then yanked his sword out and wiped the blood off on MacKnight’s tunic.

The laird collapsed to the floor, dead.

“Malcolm!” Dougald hollered, running into the tavern, only pausing to see Morrigan unconscious and Anice bound to the chair.

“What news?”  Malcolm knew if Dougald was no longer fighting, the battle had to have ceased.  Though how they could have come out on top was a mystery.  He cut Anice’s ropes.

“Ye will never believe who came to our aid.”

Malcolm pulled the dirty rag from Anice’s mouth and she cried out, “Henry is here!”

Malcolm stared at her, then looked out to the square.  “Think you he knows I have wed ye, Anice?”  Without a second guess, he gathered her into his arms, squeezing her against his chest, grateful she was unharmed.  He would not give her up to any man.

She returned a loving embrace, but then hurriedly pulled away to check on Kemp.  With the lad’s head cradled in her lap, tears filled her eyes.  “He is alive, and Morrigan?”

“She is stirring, milady,” Dougald said, wrapping a cloth around Morrigan’s wound.  “As for King Henry, he is verra angry.  I wouldna be wanting to be his new relation by marriage who hadna permission to wed his ward.”  He gave Malcolm a meaningful look.

Malcolm straightened.  He would not be intimidated by the king or anyone.  He would not give up Anice.

*  *  *

Once the wounded men were taken care of, and Morrigan and Kemp were resting comfortably back at Brecken Castle, Anice changed her dirty gowns for clean ones, and hurried to make King Henry welcome.  Malcolm intercepted her with a grim look before she entered the hall.

“What is wrong, Malcolm?” Anice asked, her heart already pounding with fresh anxiety.

He took her hand and kissed it, then pulled out a missive tucked in his belt.  “My brother, James, needs our help.  Trouble with another clan at his border.”

Anice’s throat constricted, her heart sinking.  “You…you are leaving?”

“Nay, love.  King Henry says he learned Laird Robertson was gathering troops for Robert Curthose, but was unable to apprehend him in the village this morn.  Since Robertson is still a threat in the area, I wouldna leave ye to your own defenses.”

She raised a brow, wondering if he did not think she could defend her castle.

Smiling, he kissed her cheek.  “No’ that you would not do a fine job, lass, but I would be useless to my brother when my thoughts would be about ye.”

“Aye, I understand your meaning, and I am thankful ye will not be going, but your brothers—”

“Dougald, aye, but Angus’s wounds need mending.  Gunnolf will accompany Dougald and I will send thirty men, if you approve.”

Anice sighed deeply.  ‘Twas Malcolm’s call to do as he pleased now that he was laird of the castle, but she appreciated that he wished her approval.  “Aye, and thank ye for asking me, Malcolm, but the lasses will surely miss your brother.”

“Aye, lass.”  He winked, then motioned to the hall.  “The king awaits us.”

With dreaded expectancy, she rested her hand on Malcolm’s sleeve, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart and her trembling legs when she and Malcolm joined the king in the hall.

He spoke not a word to them until they sat down to the meal.  Henry raised a tankard of wine, took a healthy swig, then set it down.  “My advisor tells me Baron Fontenot sided with Robert Curthose.”

“Aye, Your Grace,” Malcolm said, steadily watching the king.

Henry looked at Anice, his countenance grim.  She quickly nodded, more concerned about how he felt about her marriage to Malcolm, then the fact Malcolm had slain the man Henry wanted Anice to wed.

“My advisor also tells me Lord MacKnight was the one who killed your uncle, Lady Anice, and had several others murdered, including his own wife.”

“Aye, Your Grace,” Malcolm answered for Anice, which was fine with her.  She couldn’t find her tongue, afraid Henry would force Malcolm to give her up.  Tension crackled in the air, while her people ate in morbid silence.

Buttering a piece of bread, Henry continued, “He said Baron Fontenot was the one behind Lord MacKnight’s despicable acts.”

“Aye, Your Grace.”

“This is all very well indeed, and you and your brothers are to be commended for a job well done.  What I do not understand is the part about your marriage to Lady Anice.”

“I had to wed her to protect her from Baron Fontenot,” Malcolm hastily said.

“Then the marriage can be annulled at once since ye no longer need to protect her.  I will have another Norman lord sent to court the lady.”  Henry lifted a black brow.

“Nay!”  Malcolm quickly added, “
Your Grace
.  I love the lady, and she me.  We wish nay annulment.  I intend to protect her forever.”

  Henry’s face remained hard, and Anice knew what the king had on his mind, though she prayed he would not mention it at the meal.

“Has this marriage been consummated?”  Henry gave Anice a sly glance.

She swore everyone in the castle heard the king’s question.  She quit breathing, and every inch of her melted under the pressure.

Malcolm reached under the table and squeezed her hand.  “Aye, Your Grace.”

Henry ground his teeth, then looked at Anice.  “Queen Matilda asked that I allow ye this transgression.  But I will not, if ye have not consummated the marriage.  My physician will see to ye after the meal.  And Lord MacNeill, when ye ask me if ye can court one of my wards, ye are to give me time to say aye or nay, not take it upon yourself to do as you please.”

“Aye, Your Grace,” Malcolm said, this time with a definite lift to his voice.

Anice still wasn’t happy.  Malcolm wasn’t going to be the one examined by the king’s physician to prove she and Malcolm were telling the truth.  On the other hand, unless the king’s physician lied about Anice’s condition, it verra much sounded like Henry would permit her marriage to Malcolm after all.

“One other thing,” Henry said with a glint in his eye, “do not allow the lady to have access to ropes.  Rumors abound that she climbs out windows of a keep too many stories above the ground should she wish your company not.”

Malcolm grinned and drank his fill.  “Aye, Your Grace.  I will remember.”

Henry shook his purse.  “I understand ye will be paying off a wager soon, which will make me a richer man.”

The king was one of those who had bet Malcolm would wed her?

She shook her head.  There was no understanding the English, or the Normans.  She kissed Malcolm’s hand.  ‘Twas a good thing then, that she ended up with her Highlander.

Henry began talking to Dougald about the battle, leaving her and Malcolm to speak in private.

 “Love me, lass?” Malcolm asked.

 “Ye know I do, my braw Highlander.”  She kissed his lips without reserve, loving the taste of wine on his velvety mouth and tongue.

“Bonny lass,” he whispered against her cheek, “’ye are a treasure.  And all mine to keep.”

“Aye, forever, milaird, as ye are mine.”

“Now, if we can only get our good king to retire early,” Malcolm said, one brow cocked in a devilish way.

“We can retire to our chambers for a much needed sleep.”

He chuckled, the sound darkly sensual.  “I have nay intention of sleeping with ye this eve, lass.  And I wager I will have to nap during the day to keep up my strength at night.”

“Nay more wagers, my husband.  From the sounds of the last one, ye lost money.  Think I you are not a betting man.”

“’Tis I who won the bet, lass.”

“And I, love.”  Sitting beside the brawniest of Highlanders, her husband, her love, her life, Anice glanced at her people.  King Henry’s making her his ward had turned out well after all, no’ a curse as she feared.

Malcolm ran his hand over her thigh in a sensual caress.  No’ a curse at all.