Highlander Betrayed (Guardians of the Targe) (13 page)

“And more bonny company than you, lad.” Nicholas grinned and took off at a careful trot across the muddy bailey.

R
OWAN SETTLED HERSELF
on a bench along the wall opposite the great hall’s hearth, a basket of wool by her side and plenty of room to work her spindle as Scotia arrived, quickly followed by Duncan and Nicholas. Scotia made her way past the older men, before pausing to banter with the younger men. Nicholas nodded at the gathering as he passed them, but made his way directly across the large chamber to where Rowan sat. She was vaguely aware that Duncan followed Nicholas and that Scotia followed them both like a duckling followed its mother.

“May I join you, Mistress Rowan?” Nicholas said as he took the seat next to her. Duncan waited for Scotia to sit, then sat beside her some little way down the bench.

“I am glad you did not leave before I could say good day,” Nicholas said.

She grabbed another tuft of wool and sent her spindle spinning as she slanted a glance at him. A smile creased his cheeks, not quite deep enough to make dimples, but creating a striking sharpness to his face that was handsomely set off by the soft waves of his hair. She could not help smiling back at him before turning back to her thread.

He leaned toward her, their shoulders touching, and studied the spindle as it spun between her knees. “Do you ever just sit, or are you always busy at some task?”

“There is always work needs doing,” she replied, grabbing another handful of wool and feeding it into the lengthening thread.

Nicholas was quiet but he did not lean away. Rowan sighed and leaned into his warmth and weight. The contact was both comforting and disturbing, sending flutterings through her stomach and heat and restlessness to places lower.

“Do you have nothing to do but watch Rowan spin?” Scotia leaned forward so she could see around Rowan.

“Nay, mistress, I do not. There are stones to be moved, but it is not safe work in such a downpour.”

Scotia looked at him for a moment and Rowan knew the lass was considering the best way to catch Nicholas’s attention.

“Then you must earn your keep another way,” Scotia said, mischief clear in both her voice and the glint in her vivid blue eyes. “Tell us about yourself. Why do you not ken where your home is?”

“Scotia, ’tis rude—”

Nicholas laid a hand on her arm, stopping her admonishment. “Do not fash yourself, Rowan. Scotia is right. I must earn my keep and this rain is not showing signs of letting up.” He gave her arm a slight squeeze before releasing her. He leaned forward again, elbows braced on his knees, angled a little toward the prying Scotia and the silent Duncan.

“There is not much to tell. I was raised amongst my mother’s kin until I was nearly ten and two. My mother was not well so I went to my father at that point, near the border. I did not wish to leave for, I dearly loved my life in the Highlands, but ’twas for the best.”

Rowan watched as he told this tale, held still by the wistfulness in his words.

“Why did you not return to Achnamara when you were old enough to?” Scotia asked, taking the question directly from Rowan’s own thoughts.

Nicholas smiled. “ ’Tis not as easy as that, lass. I had a life in the borders—”

“A wife maybe?” Scotia asked.

Rowan’s spindle dangled in her hands, slowly unwinding her thread. She could not look at Nicholas.

“Nay, I have never been wed.”

Rowan let out a breath she had not realized she was holding.

“Just a life that kept me busy.”

“So why are you here?” Rowan asked, her eyes on her spindle but her attention on his response.

“That life was not enough anymore.”

Silence hung between them.

“I wanted to see where I came from,” he finally added. “See who my mother’s people were.”

“You have not seen your mum in all these years?” Scotia asked.

Nicholas shook his head and leaned back against the wall, his hands clenching his knees. Rowan scowled at Scotia, who did not seem to notice the strain her questions had caused. She leaned her shoulder against his this time and was gratified to see his hands relax.

“I have not seen my mum in more than ten years,” Rowan said quietly. She probed the memories like a sore tooth, happy in an odd way that there was still pain there, that she hadn’t become so accustomed to her parents being gone that she didn’t feel the loss anymore. “She died when I was ten, along with my da. I still miss them very much.” She set the spindle in motion again. “You must miss your mum.”

“I miss her family. My mum never had much care for me,” Nicholas said.

Rowan didn’t know how to respond to that quiet confession. How could a mother not care for her child?

Raucous laughter burst from the cluster of men gathered around a table near the hearth, breaking the quiet moment.

“Duncan, you have not got your ale yet,” Nicholas said, rising from his pensive place at Rowan’s side. “Shall I get us all some?”

Rowan shook her head but Scotia accepted. Duncan did, too, though he scowled at Scotia, then looked to Rowan for help.

“Scotia, do you not have to get back to your mum?” she asked, all the innocence in her voice she could muster.

“Jeanette told me she was fine for a few hours. I have not been here that long. I’ll have an ale,” she said to Nicholas, rising from her seat and touching Nicholas’s arm. “I shall even help you fetch it.”

Duncan rolled his eyes as the girl smiled up at Nicholas as if he were a god, not some laborer who’d happened by their castle as he wandered lost in the Highlands. Rowan kept her smile to herself. Duncan had such high expectations of Scotia, yet she let him down again and again without even realizing it. Maybe someday Scotia would grow up enough to realize Duncan’s gruffness with her hid deeper feelings. Just how deep, Rowan didn’t know, and perhaps he did not either. But Scotia would test the patience of Job and Duncan was the closest they had to that man.

Rowan sighed.

“You like him,” Duncan said, sliding toward her on the bench until only the basket of wool separated them.

“You do not?” she asked, sidestepping the answer that seemed all too obvious.

He considered her question for a long moment, then, in his understated way, dipped his head. “He’ll do. Do you trust him?”

It was Rowan’s turn to ponder the question. The truth was, she did, but she couldn’t say exactly why. Did she trust him only because she wanted to? The man affected her like no one she’d ever met before, making her feel cared for, protected, desired even when she had not known she wanted to feel those things.

He made her blood sing with kisses and smiles. He had lifted her from worry and care more than once with something as simple as a smile or a gently teasing remark. And then there was the pleasure of looking upon his fine countenance.

But did she trust him?

“I want to. My instinct is to trust him, but I fear I know too little about him to truly do so. Does that make sense?”

“Aye. I have the same thought. He has done naught to keep me from trusting him, but that in itself makes me wonder if he is trying too hard to win my trust.”

Rowan laughed. “So you would rather he create a little mischief in order for you to trust him?” Nicholas and Scotia were returning from the far end of the hall, laughing at something as if they were boon friends. “If he is not careful, Scotia will insure he tests your trust, Duncan.”

“She does have that impact on a man, but to my mind he’s got his eye set on another.”

Rowan almost dropped her spindle but caught it deftly. She kept her head down as Nicholas handed a tankard to Duncan, then slid between Rowan and Scotia, who’d taken a new seat far away from the once more scowling Duncan.

“Nicholas,” Scotia said, “did I not tell you he’d be scowling when we returned?” She nodded at Duncan.

“Aye, you did, minx. I suppose I shall have to dance with you next time the opportunity arises.”

“That was the wager.”

“You wagered I’d not be scowling when you got back?” Duncan said to Nicholas, shaking his head. “Where this one is concerned, it is my most common expression.”

Nicholas laughed and Rowan rolled the new thread on her spindle and tucked it into a fold of her arisaid. “ ’Tis the common expression of everyone where Scotia is concerned, except for her mum.”

Scotia stuck her tongue out at Rowan and they all laughed at her childish response.

“You need something to keep you busy,” Scotia said to Duncan. “Then you could keep that sour look off your face.”

“You keep us all busy enough. This one, too.” He jabbed a thumb in Nicholas’s direction.

“I have not given you any trouble, have I?” Nicholas asked. “Except that you would have preferred to stay outside in the rain when I wished to come inside.”

“Duncan! You would keep our guest out in the rain?” Rowan feigned disappointment in her voice.

“It was not my—”

“He is a hard-hearted man,” Scotia said, mocking him, too.

“Och, lasses, do not be too hard on the man. He has been greatly busy making sure I am not trying to bring harm to the clan or the castle, though I am encouraged to harm that damn pile of stone as much as I like.”

The three of them were chuckling and giggling at Duncan’s spluttering defense of his actions.

“Fine. Yes, I had no care for this rogue who is sure to bring the castle and all of us who live here to our knees. And Scotia is exactly the minx he deems her to be, requiring constant vigilance lest she join forces with the English to conquer the Highlands one man at a time. At least you, Rowan, cause me no suffering.”

His comments had Scotia’s face red, her ire clear in the icy glare she aimed at him. Nicholas had gone oddly silent, too, so only Rowan was left quietly chuckling.

“That will teach the two of you to poke a quiet bear.” As much as she was enjoying the teasing and the company, she had things that needed tending. She tucked the wool basket under the bench and rose, bending to give Duncan a quick kiss on his bristly cheek. “You do a fine job of watching over all of us. I thank you as I know Uncle Kenneth does, too, else he would not give you such arduous chores. Scotia, I am going to get dinner for Auntie Elspet and Jeanette. Shall I bring enough for you, too?”

“Nay. I shall eat here. Perhaps Nicholas will keep me company?”

Nicholas laughed. “You shall have to ask Duncan if that is acceptable.”

“At least I can keep an eye on both of you at the same time that way. I suppose ’tis acceptable.”

Scotia smiled, transforming herself from childlike to a glowing, beautiful young woman. Rowan was always stunned by that transformation and knew that if Scotia were aware of it, she’d shed the childish behavior and would have even more men at her feet. The poleaxed look on Duncan’s face confirmed it. She looked to see if Nicholas was equally enamored, but found him watching her.

“May I help you take the meal up to your aunt’s chamber? With Duncan’s permission, of course.”

She sought out Duncan’s gaze, raising her eyebrows, their brief conversation now being tested.

Duncan nodded. “You shall return here directly. Do not make me come looking for you, Nicholas.”

Nicholas grinned. “I would not, Duncan. Will Uilliam or the chief give you trouble for it?”

Duncan shook his head. “They trust me.”

The implication was clear in Duncan’s voice and Rowan wondered if he was giving Nicholas room to prove himself untrustworthy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

N
ICHOLAS FORCED HIMSELF
to move more slowly than he wished as they gathered Lady Elspet’s meal. He was sure Duncan’s sudden test—for there was no doubt in Nicholas’s mind that this was a test—was in some way Rowan’s doing. Was it that because she trusted him, so Duncan did as well? It should not matter why she had convinced Duncan he was trustworthy. He should not care what her motivations were, merely that he was achieving what he had set out to do, but he did care. She was not another in a long line of women to be manipulated, used. She was strong, loyal, and kissed so sweetly.

He clenched his fists hard enough to feel the bite of his nails against his palms. He couldn’t care. She could be no more than any other woman to him, a means to an end, no more. He was a fool if he let her mean more than that. And he was no fool.

Rowan quickly assembled a fresh pot of broth and a bit of meat. She handed bowls, spoons, and a small basket of bannocks to Nicholas, then led the way across the sloppy bailey, thick with frigid puddles and sucking mud. Keeping everything as dry as possible in the still heavy rain was a challenge. They stopped just inside the tower while Rowan took off the cloak she had snagged from someone in the kitchen and hung it on a hook near the door.

She turned back to him and his heart almost stopped at the sight of her fresh-faced beauty, so different from the women at Edward’s court.

The curve of her cheek and her long lashes, darker now that the rain had wet them, were accentuated by the flickering torchlight. The rain had her hair wilder than usual with the damp. It clung about her face, adding lacy embellishments to her pale skin.

He stepped toward her, only then remembering that his arms were full with dinner. Perhaps he was a fool. He gave her a wry smile.