Winning the Highlander's Heart (7 page)

King Henry’s bright eyes focused on Anice, making her feel morbidly self-conscious.  He was a handsome king with black, short curly hair that covered his ears and reached down to the jeweled collar of his tunic.  A mustache that curled past his lips didn’t hide the grim line of his mouth, nor did the furrow of his brow go unnoticed.  The queen’s puzzled, but concerned look, made Anice feel as though wood ants were crawling over every inch of her naked skin.  Her cheeks already burned from Laird MacNeill’s words, but now the heat spread all the way to her toes.  How many times would this Highlander embarrass her?

She turned her attention to her meal.  The servants served dove on oyster shell.  With no intention of speaking further to the Scotsman during the meal, Anice picked at her fowl.

Conversation slowly renewed again to a low-pitched roar.

But the more she thought about Malcolm’s words, the angrier she grew.  To think some Highlander she didn’t know would advise the king to keep her at Arundel longer!  Why here she’d presumed the Highlander could save her from the wicked lust of the king.  And here instead, the Scot would help to put her at further risk?  The very idea!

She ripped a wing off her bird and pointed it at Malcolm.  “You may think you can do as you will where I am concerned because His Grace has made you my steward.  But let me tell you something, Laird MacNeill, if you so much as hint at my staying here further—”

“Milady,” Mai cautioned under her breath.

“What now, Mai?  I am no’ speaking verra loud.”

Mai nodded her head in the direction of the head table where King Henry spoke to his steward.

The redheaded man bowed, then headed straight for Anice’s table.  She dropped her wing on her plate and picked up a piece of bread.  The laird had no business with her so she ignored his approach.

But as his footsteps drew nearer and the hall grew quiet, her temperature elevated again.

“Lady Anice,” the steward said.

She turned to face him.  “Aye, milaird?”

“His Grace wishes to know if there is some trouble here.”  He glanced at Malcolm as if to indicate he knew where the problem lay.    

Yes, there was trouble indeed, all in the form of one brawny, dark-haired, brown-eyed Scotsman.  For a moment, she took sympathy on him as Malcolm and his brother’s eyes fairly pleaded with her not to speak against Malcolm.

The hall remained hushed while the steward waited for her answer.  All eyes watched them as if Anice had become the court jester for the meal.  If she said what she really thought, that the Highlander had no right even thinking he was taking over her castle, or that he had no business telling her or anyone else that she should remain behind, the MacNeill brothers would be thoroughly disgraced.

“Nay, milaird.”  She would not harm the brothers in that manner.  Though she gave enough of a delay to force sweat upon the brothers’ brows.  ‘Twas enough for now.  After all, this Malcolm warred with her with threatening to tell...
advise
the king to keep her here.

Her slow response evidently troubled the steward.  “Are you certain, milady?  His Grace was concerned you were upset.  He would speak with you following the meal in his solar, if—”

“Nay!”  She bit her lip.  Though the steward spoke softly, she did
not
and the only thing she was grateful for was that most would not have heard what she so vehemently opposed doing.

She cleared her throat hastily.  “That would be most unnecessary.”

“As you wish, milady.  I will tell His Grace that all is well.”  He bowed to her, then crossed the floor to the head table.  Her heart nearly stopped beating.  Would the king insist on meeting with her following the meal anyway?  A parting goodbye for his wife’s favorite cousin?  She curled her fingers into fists.

The king listened to his steward, though his gaze remained on her.  He nodded, then a smile appeared.  Had the steward told him what she had objected to?  She felt as if she had been immersed into a pot of the cook’s boiling stew.

When the steward retook his seat, the conversation renewed.

Malcolm said, “Thank you, milady.”

“Do not speak to me any further, Laird MacNeill.”

“Milady, had I known you were concerned about—”

She glared at him.  Didn’t she just tell him not to speak to her?  He was as bad as Mai.  Then his words sank in.  Did he now just realize why she had to leave Arundel?  And if so, if he mentioned it here and now in front of God and everybody.

“I’m sorry, milady.  I did not know.”

He didn’t know what?  Did he know about the king’s interest in her or not?  Men, there was no figuring them.

Still, a look of admiration flashed across his face, but then apprehension followed this.

Now what was he thinking?  And why did she care?  She had no reason to concern herself with anything this Highlander thought about her.  If he’d had his way, he’d have taken her over his knee and paddled her for trying to leave the castle earlier, she reminded herself.  And she, a grown woman.

She sipped from her tankard, wondering about his change of attitude.  Was he behaving better in light of the king’s concern?  Yes, that was it.  He wouldn’t have her steward’s position, if the king didn’t wish it.

“I would be honored to accompany you and your lady-in-waiting for the rest of the eve, if it will help, milady.”

She set her tankard down.  “Why?”  Had he changed his mind about desiring an English bride?  She scolded herself. 
Of course not
.  He wished only to find favor with the king.  Mattered not to her whether the strapping warrior wanted to embrace an English lady tightly in his arms at night, cuddled together, naked under soft linens.  To kiss her with those lips that curved up at the most inappropriate times.  To...it mattered not to her, whatever he wished to do with some Englishwoman.

He cleared his throat.  “I did not understand the reason you wished to leave here, milady.  I will do everything in my power to keep you safe until we leave on the morrow.”

He
did
understand that she feared the king’s interest in her.  “Aye, milaird.  I shall take you up on your offer.  Nay one will think twice about it anyway.”

His dark brows rose.  “Meaning?”

“You are no’ the type I would find appealing.  So nay one should get any ideas that might start tongues a’wagging.”

Malcolm sat taller.  What did she mean by that?  He had seen the way her green eyes gazed at him and more than once had swept over the whole of him.  She could not convince him she was not interested in a Highlander, sturdier-built than most of the Normans he had seen.

If Malcolm had truly displeased her, she would not have stood up for him in front of the Norman laird.  She could pretend not to feel something for Malcolm, but he suspected she had a soft spot for a Highlander over that of a Norman.  And when he offered to protect her against the king’s amorous advances, she did not dismiss his proposal, but instead accepted without a hint of objection.  She would not spend another moment in Malcolm’s company, if she did not choose it.

No, the lass was truly intrigued with him.  He knew it from the way her heart beat faster when she met his gaze, and her cheeks reddened whenever he caught her considering his physique.  ‘Twas a shame he had to marry an Englishwoman.  He doubted any would have the same temper that fired his blood like Anice did.

No, he did not need the aggravation.  The lady was best left to a Norman’s care.  God save him.  So why did this thought force him to clench his fists?

He studied the smile that settled on her lips while she fingered her bird.  Should he counter her words?

‘Twas tempting.

He should not allow the lass to get away with saying what she had, knowing full well she spoke not a wee bit of truth.

Angus watched him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  It would take the best part of valor to not be goaded into mincing words with the woman concerning whether she was interested in the likes of him or not.

After sipping from his tankard, Malcolm tugged at his fowl.  “I was under the impression you did not desire a Norman for a husband.”

“I did not say I wouldna wish a Highland warrior for a husband, Laird MacNeill, but that
you
did not appeal.  You, after all, dinna represent all Highlanders.”

He grinned at her, knowing she didn’t mean a word she said.  But he would catch her up in her tale.  “Aye.  And what kind of a man would you prefer, if you do not mind saying?”

“’Tis not your concern.”  She tilted her chin up in the way he was quickly becoming accustomed.  Her actions meant she readied for the joust once again, her quick-tempered tongue as sharp and deadly as any lance.  The only thing that concerned him was avoiding catching the king’s attention further.

The flecks of golden amber seemed to darken in her green eyes and a trace of a smile touched her lips.  For an instant, he wished to press his mouth against hers, to find out how she would react to a Highlander’s kiss—not anyone’s but his—the Highlander she said she had no interest in.

Mayhap on their walk in the gardens later this eve.  Then he could tell whether she truly had no feelings for him or not.  After all, he’d kissed women before who were as stiff as wooden boards, but if Anice melted under his charms, he would know she spoke not a word of truth.

“Aye, milady, ‘tis true I have nay need to know.  But if a gentleman approaches you who you have nay interest in, I would know this already, since you would have told me which men do not appeal.  Then I would ensure the gentleman does not bother you further.”

“I see the logic in what you say, now, milaird.  ‘Tis most thoughtful of you to offer such assistance.  The gentleman in question would have to be...younger, like your brother.”

Malcolm frowned.  The woman could not be speaking the truth.  ‘Twas him that her eyes devoured, not his younger brother.

She smiled.

His physical reaction had already signaled his defeat in the first round of the joust.  “Younger.  And the reason for this?” he asked, hoping to have another means of attack to force the truth from the foxy lass.

She raised a brow.  “A younger man is quicker to please his lady suitor.”

She had him there.  Again, he frowned, though if he’d thought the matter over first, he’d have watched his reaction, otherwise he confirmed the lady won another round. 

In the case of his brother, she guessed right.  He would do anything to please a lady because of his youth.

“Aye, but there is something to a man who has had more time to learn the finer aspects of what appeals to a woman, do not you agree, milady?”

Her cheeks turned scarlet.  Yes, she got his point.

“If you mean an older man has been with...with hoards of women and...and...”  She folded her arms.

That did not go over well.

He cleared his throat, trying to think of another point that would pull him out of the deepening trench he’d slipped into.  Though he did well in the jousts, he couldn’t seem to match the lady’s tactics.

Angus chuckled, heating Malcolm’s blood.  He had no intention of allowing the lady to say she’d prefer his younger brother to him.  Somehow, he had to secure the truth from her.  “Nay, I meant to say a man would know more how to woo a lady.”  It wasn’t what he’d had on his mind, but mayhap it sounded better to a lady’s delicate sensibilities.

“I see.  Well, when you put it that way...”

He smiled when he won the point.

“Pray tell, milaird, how would you woo a lady in such a manner that compared to that of a younger gentleman, such as your brother, you would win her hand more quickly?”