Highland Knight (15 page)

“Ye cannae do that,” she said, and she was not really surprised when he turned some of that wild fury churning inside him onto her.

“He is my son,” Cameron said; then he finished off his wine and threw his goblet across the tent in a vain attempt to ease some of his anger. “Unlike the whore who bore him, ye dinnae have e’en the smallest right to decide his fate. I willnae allow yet another woman to play her games with my own flesh and blood as her pawn. I will have my son.”

“Ye willnae just take him,” she snapped, her own anger rising. “Try to think of something besides your own poor wee sense of injury, your own poor wee bruised pride. Alan is a wee bairn. By the time ye return to Scotland, he will have been with Elspeth and her family for o’er a year. They are the only family he has e’er known.”

“
I
am his family.”

“Aye, but he is too young to understand that. Ye cannae just strut into his life and claim your rights with nary a thought to him.”

“Why would your cousin try to claim my bastard son?”

“Ye insult her and us with your suspicions. Think ye she needs your bastard child? She has her own husband’s bastard and a wee daughter of her own now. She took your son in out of the kindness of her heart, as has her husband. If Alan’s father had ne’er been found, they would have raised him, loved him, and done weel by him. They havenae forgotten there is a father somewhere, however—one who was ne’er told of his son—and they ken that he might appear, might want the lad. They will not, however, let ye just snatch him from the only family he kens. They will expect ye to understand that that will hurt him badly. It must all be done slowly, carefully.”

“And, of course, they will ne’er see that they have a fine pawn to use against me when I try to make your brother do right by my sister,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Do ye think me a fool?”

“At this moment, aye.”

When he glared at her for a moment, then strode out of the tent, Avery cursed and slouched back against her pillow. Gillyanne appeared to be deep in thought, and Avery
used the time to try to calm herself. She was hurt and angry. While he had not said too many hurtful things, his whole attitude had been an affront. Although she had expected the tale would re-stir all of his old bitterness, mistrust, and anger, she realized she had not fully expected so much of it to be aimed at her. She had thought she had proven herself to him, yet the actions of a woman from his past had so swiftly caused him to eye her with suspicion, she knew she had only been fooling herself. That he could think even for a minute that she would use his own son against him showed her that she had not really touched any more than his passion. And, she thought sadly, his passion could well prove as fleeting and tenuous as his trust.

“The day just continues to improve,” she muttered when an obviously angry Leargan strode into the tent and glared at her.

“What in God’s name did ye do to Cameron?” demanded Leargan. “He just strode out of here as if all the beasts of hell were yapping at his heels.”

“Ye tell him, Gillyanne,” Avery said. “I believe I will just lie here and brood for a wee while.”

Despite the strong urge to indulge in a hearty sulk, Avery found herself watching Leargan as Gillyanne told him all they had just told Cameron. The expressions that flickered over Leargan’s open face were fascinating. When Gillyanne finished, he dragged his hand through his hair and muttered a long string of curses.

“That cursed bitch has managed to reach right out from the grave to make him miserable,” Leargan muttered.

“Did he care for her then?” Avery asked.

“Nay. Weel, aye, a wee bit. Nay more than a mon usually cares for a bonny, skilled leman.”

“And he trusted her to be faithful whilst he paid her upkeep only to be made a fool of.”

Leargan nodded. “When he found her with another mon but hours after he had left her bed, that was bad enough. In the ensuing confrontation, however, she took great delight in letting him ken just how wrong he had been to think he could trust her to be faithful e’en for a day. Not only had she bedded near every mon for miles about, but she had taken several of his friends to her bed as weel, making sure that they heard all about what a fool he had been. She told him she had lied about being barren and had rid herself of one of his bairns. He didnae believe that, but now?” He shook his head. “I wouldnae be surprised if he fears one of the bairns buried in the bitch’s garden was his. And I daresay he is thoroughly sickened by discovering just what sort of woman had succeeded in making a fool of him.
I
mean she wasnae just a faithless whore; she was a murderess, a killer of bairns. She was cold, heartless, e’en purely evil.”

“Aye, she was,” agreed Gillyanne. “I suspect he is feeling mightily sullied at the thought that he bedded down with such a woman.”

“I certainly would,” said Leargan.

“And so he is probably off somewhere trying to scrub that stain away e’en though ’tis three years old.”

Leargan stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “The way ye do that, lass, ’tis purely unsettling.” He looked at Avery. “I had thought him cured of it all, that he had overcome the past and come to his senses. It would appear that this news has brought it all back.”

“It would appear so,” Avery agreed.

“I am sorry, lass.”

“So am I, Leargan. Now go find the fool. He isnae in any condition to be watching his back.”

“Mayhap ’tis just the shock and this relapse willnae last long.”

“Mayhap, but then, it doesnae have to last too long ere all my chances of benefiting from a change of heart are gone, does it?”

He hesitated, opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head “Aye, I had best go and find the fool.”

The moment Leargan left, Gillyanne looked at Avery. “That didnae go verra weel, did it.”

“Nay,” agreed Avery, and she sipped at her wine. “Not verra weel at all.

“I dinnae think he really believed those accusations he made. ’Twas the anger talking. He was verra, verra angry. ’Tis hard for a mon to ken that he can be so easily fooled by bonny smiles and an ache in his loins. I think Cameron believes he should be above that sort of foolishness, should be wiser, should be able to see more clearly. To discover Anne Seaton’s crimes went so far beyond mere vanity and faithlessness makes him feel even more foolish.”

“Which makes him even angrier.”

“Aye. Weel, ’twill pass. How long can a mon brood o’er such a thing, anyway?”

“Gilly, ’twas Anne Seaton’s faithlessness that was that last betrayal, that one which made Cameron turn his back on all women, the one which prompted his trip to France and his vow of celibacy.”

Gillyanne frowned, then gaped. “But, all of that happened nearly three years ago.”

“Exactly. Cameron is a verra stubborn mon and, I feel ’tis safe to say, a champion brooder.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Quite.”

“Is he still brooding?”

Avery turned to smile at Gillyanne as her cousin climbed into the cart and sat beside her. Although, despite nearly a week of travel, Avery felt more than able to ride a horse, she was forced to stay in the cart. She was also forced to spend most of her time staring at Cameron’s back. The man rarely came into the tent, never slept at her side, and barely spoke to her. He had just left with Leargan to spy on the port they lingered on the edges of, and she had not even been able to wish him Godspeed.

“Aye,” she replied. “He does little more than glare or grunt and sleeps outside with his men.”

“The idiot. Weel, Leargan has no new bruises, so mayhap his temper is easing a little.”

Poor Leargan, Avery thought, and she smiled again. He had found Cameron that day, bathing in the river just as Gillyanne had said he would be. Avery doubted she would ever be able to learn who had said what to whom to start the fight. There was even the possibility that Leargan had started it on purpose, knowing that it was what Cameron needed. Avery was not sure why, but occasionally, men did seem to have need of a good, rousing fight. Leargan and Cameron had returned to camp bruised and bloodied, but a lot of Cameron’s anger had apparently been pounded out of him.

The man was still brooding, however. Avery wondered if there was any chance Leargan could pound that mood out of him as well. Very soon she might be tempted to do it herself. Their time together was rapidly fading away while he sulked over a crime three years old.
Perhaps a few knocks on the head with a stout cudgel
, she mused, glaring in the direction he had gone.

“Are ye sure ye arenae brooding, too?” asked Gillyanne.

“Nay. Weel, not constantly,” Avery confessed. “Just now I was wondering if bashing Cameron o’er the head would restore his senses.”

Gillyanne laughed and shook her head. “It would probably only help ye to feel better. Cameron just feels things verra deeply, I think, and he doesnae want to. He would like to be emotionless, yet he is actually verra emotional.”

“’Twould be nice if he would direct some of that emotion my way.”

“Oh, I think he does. In truth, I wonder if some of this brooding is being used to place a distance between you. He is mon enough to foolishly believe that distance is enough to kill any longing or need.”

“Sometimes, Gilly dear, ye sound as if ye think men are nay verra bright.”

“When it comes to emotions, to love, to matters of the heart, men can often be verra blind and verra dim-witted. Women, too. Just nay as often. Some of the trouble with men is that they see love for a woman—a need for her—as a weakness. No mon willingly accepts, acknowledges, or welcomes a weakness. I adore my fither and uncles—think they are brilliant, strong, loving, and all that can be good in a mon. Yet, from the tales I have heard, when they were courting our mithers they were nay the brightest stars in the sky.” She laughed along with Avery, then grew serious again. “Just think on this, Avery. If a mon can be so wounded, so angered, by the betrayal of even his leman, a woman he didnae e’en love, he is undoubtedly a mon who does indeed have a heart—a verra big heart.”

“I have considered that possibility myself. And?”

“Did I say and?”

“Nay, but I could hear one in your voice. And?”

“And…mayhap sitting about waiting for him to get o’er his sulks isnae the best thing to do, especially not if he is using that mood to hold ye away from him. Since ye have so little time left to be with him, mayhap ye should try to get in his way, refuse to let him ignore you.” Gillyanne briefly chewed on her lip, then warily continued, “’Tis the betrayals and faithless ways of women which have soured him, e’en made him afraid, though he would probably ne’er actually admit that. ’Tis nay fair that ye must suffer for the less-than-honorable actions of others or that ye must prove yourself, but ’twould nay help your cause if ye stood on your pride and refused to do so. And, keep in mind that soon he will find he has been betrayed and lied to yet again—by his verra own sister.”

“I ken it.” Avery groaned softly. “That could weel be the
coup de grace
.”

“Not if ye and your love still lurk fresh in his mind. Not if ye have refused to allow him to e’en try and put ye out of his mind and heart. If ye keep yourself in his thoughts by keeping yourself in his arms, in his life, then he willnae be able to help but recall such things as how ye ne’er lied to him, how ye stood loyal to your brother, how ye saved the lives of his people despite all of his unkind plans for you, and how ye told him the truth about his son. He will also recall that your passion was as honest as ye are.”

“So I should fling
myself
at his head instead of a rock.”

Gillyanne laughed even as she nodded. “Aye. I would.”

“Then I will, as soon as he returns from finding out where DeVeau is lurking in the town.”

“Do ye think DeVeau is there waiting for us?”

“I am certain that he is,” replied Avery. “I swear I can almost smell the mon.”

“Do ye sense some danger?”

“Nay, and I pray that is a good thing.”

Cameron cursed and slouched against the wall of one of the buildings forming the shadowed alley where he and Leargan were hiding. He had known DeVeau would be waiting for them, but he had nursed the small hope that the man would have tired of the game by now. The man had his soldiers scattered all over the busy port town. It was not going to be easy to get his people to the ship he had just bought room on. In truth, that he had found a captain willing to take them all on, and with a ship able to hold them all, was the only bit of luck he had had. He felt sure he could trust the captain not to alert the DeVeaux, but Cameron could see no way to sneak his people, their horses, and all of their baggage safely onto the ship before it had to sail.

“We will need to reduce the number of his men,” Leargan said as he leaned against the wall opposite Cameron.

“Aye.” Cameron frowned across the road at the inn DeVeau was staying in. “Pick a route and then close the eyes all the way along it.”

“And do it verra close to sailing time so that we dinnae need to hold our place on the ship for long.” He followed the direction of Cameron’s gaze and smiled faintly. “I fear there willnae be enough time for ye to slip in there and cut his throat.”

“I hadnae planned to make his death that easy.”

“Still angry that he touched the lass ye have ignored for a week?”

“I have decided that I was wrong to break my vow of celibacy.”

“Of course.”

“Since we will soon be at Cairnmoor and I must then trade Avery for her brother, I have decided ’tis best to end the affair now, to clear away that small entanglement.”

“If ye say so.”

Cameron glared at his cousin. “Ye dinnae need to make your scorn quite so clear to hear.”

Leargan shrugged. “I have decided that ye are too stubborn and too thick-witted to heed any of my great wisdom. If ye wish to let the past taint the rest of your life, who am I to stop you? I do, however, reserve the right to beat ye later for insulting Lady Avery by comparing her, e’en fleetingly, with the traitorous whores ye have dealt with in the past.”

“’Tis your right,” Cameron snapped. “Just as ’tis my right to beat
ye
later for being such a continuous pain in the arse.”

“Agreed.”

“Now, we had best return to camp. There is a great deal of planning to do.”

Avery listened in utter dismay as Cameron and Leargan described how the town was swarming with Sir Charles’s men. Their plan to reduce the number of those men while most of the others tried to slip onto the ship was very risky. While it was true that the MacAlpins had every right to consider the DeVeaux their enemies now, it was also true that they faced this current danger because of her. As she opened her mouth to suggest that they simply give her back to the man, Gillyanne abruptly spoke out.

“Ye need a diversion,” Gillyanne said softly.

“That would help, lass,” Cameron agreed, “but since we used that trick when we freed Avery, DeVeau is surely watching for it.”

“He looks for the usual soldier’s diversion such as stampeded horses and burning supply carts. Ye need one that he willnae immediately suspect is your doing. Mayhap e’en something that could get some of your people and goods onto the ship right beneath the mon’s nose.”

Cameron’s eyes widened and he nodded. “A verra good idea, yet I fear I havenae any thoughts on just how to do that.”

“Many people take pilgrimages to holy places in England.”

“Gilly, ye are astoundingly clever at times,” Avery said, and she grinned briefly when Gillyanne blushed.

“I will confess that I sometimes possess a rather devious turn of mind,” she murmured; then she looked back at Cameron. “There must be some of your people who arenae weel kenned by Sir Charles and his men—ones who would need little more than a somewhat concealing cloak to pass by the DeVeaux unrecognized.”

“A small group,” Avery continued. “Mayhap a half dozen and one heavily laden cart, plus a few of the more common horses. One woman and Gillyanne.”

“Me?” Gillyanne squeaked at the same time that Cameron said, “Nay.”

“Aye. A wee group of pilgrims willnae draw interest for long. Howbeit, a lass who has vowed to sing all the way to the holy shrine will surely hold most of the village’s attention.”

If Gillyanne sang her way through the town, Cameron doubted even the men on the ship would notice the people slipping aboard. It was a perfect diversion. Unfortunately, it could all too easily put Gillyanne in a great deal of danger.

“I cannae risk the lass,” he said, struggling to ignore the murmurs of disappointment he heard.

“And I cannae sing in front of so many people,” Gillyanne protested. “And, in truth, why should that hold anyone’s attention for verra long?”

“Gilly, ye ken that ye have a voice people like to hear,” Avery said. “And, for most people, the chance to hear a verra fine singer is as rare as a too-hot day in Scotland.” She looked at Cameron next. “I dinnae think Gillyanne will be in any greater danger than if she was trying to slip aboard a ship encircled by verra alert DeVeau soldiers.”

The argument that ensued did not last very long. Cameron’s only real objection was that he did not want to put Gillyanne in any danger, but Avery was right. Gillyanne would be in as much danger, if not more, if she tried to sneak aboard a well-guarded ship. Cameron and the few men he would take with him could not close the eyes of all the DeVeau guard, and that guard would be the heaviest and the most alert around any ship prepared to sail. He reluctantly agreed to the plan, but only if some of the “pilgrims” were men who could fight if the need arose.

As Avery helped Anne—who had been chosen as one of the pilgrims—and Gillyanne to prepare, she tried not to regret that she could not be a part of the adventure. Anne’s husband, Ranald, and three other soldiers chosen for their rather ordinary appearance would also go. Donald was going to play the sickly lad the pilgrimage was intended to cure. Cameron and Leargan were busily packing the horses and cart with as much as they could carry. The abundance of goods carried by the pilgrims could be easily explained. Penances, indulgences, and blessings did not come cheaply.

“I wish I hadnae thought of this,” Gillyanne muttered as Avery pinned up her hair.

“’Twas inspired, Gilly,” Avery said.

“Aye, by the fact that ye were about to suggest they just hand ye o’er to that swine.”

“How did ye ken I was about to do that?” Avery had to admit that sometimes Gillyanne’s insights could be rather unsettling.

“Ye had that this-is-all-my-fault look upon your face. I ken that Cameron wouldnae have done it, but I didnae e’en want to hear the argument that would ensue. And what is my reward? I must sing my way past a horde of strangers.”

“Wheesht, lassie, it cannae be any worse than what I must do,” said Anne as she pinned on her head-covering. “I must try to keep from laughing o’er the mere thought that my mon is playing at being a priest.”

“He did ken a great deal of what a priest should say,” Avery said. “Prayers and blessings. And, he speaks French as if he was born here.”

Anne shrugged. “’Tis just a skill he has. I do swear the mon recalls every word he has e’er heard uttered, and he is a fair mimic. Acting pious will certainly put a strain upon him, however. The rogue.” She laughed along with Gillyanne and Avery, then straightened her shoulders and brushed down the skirts of her dull brown gown. “Let us be off, then. Sooner begun, sooner ended.”

“Just where did Ranald get all of those priestly things, anyway?” Avery asked, and she was not really surprised when Anne’s reply was to grab Gillyanne by the arm and hurry away to join the other false pilgrims.

Avery joined the group that would enter the village at the opposite end of where the pilgrims were to enter. They were almost done emptying the carts that would be left
behind. Their supplies and belongings were packed onto the horses and their own backs. The horses were going to cause the most difficulty, Avery thought as she secured a heavy pack upon her back with Therese’s help. A horse could not creep aboard like a person could, and it was not easy to quickly hide it away. Cameron’s plan to unpack them at dockside, then at the last moment have two men take them aboard as if they were horsetraders was a good one, but the presence of the animals in the venture still made her uneasy.

She was disappointed that she got no chance to say anything to Cameron before he, Leargan, Wee Rob, Colin, and two other men left to slip into town and silence as many of DeVeau’s men as possible. A brief exchange of waves was all she managed with Gillyanne before each of their groups went their separate ways. Every step of the way into town, Avery prayed that she was right to feel so confident in the plans that had been made. It was terrifying enough to know that if it all failed, she would end up back in Sir Charles’s hands, but even more so to think that Gillyanne could fall into his grasp as well.

Cameron released the man he had just killed, sighing as he then dragged the body into the deeper shadows at the back of the alley. He did not like killing a man this way, slipping up behind him and striking without warning. Most of the guards he had silenced with a sharp, solid knock on the head, then left them tied and gagged. This man, however, had caught sight of one of his people slipping aboard the ship and had been about to cry out an alarm. It had been necessary to swiftly end that threat but Cameron much preferred a face-to-face battle to stealthy throat slitting.