Winning the Highlander's Heart (16 page)

He turned away from her, adjusted his trewes, then climbed into his saddle.  With a wave of his hand, he motioned for Dougald to lead the way and hoarsely shouted, “Continue, brother!”

With beady eyes and short black hair, a stout man approached on horseback.  “How now, good folk.  Would you have a drop o’ mead for a fellow traveler?”  His hand raised in greeting, showed he carried no weapon and meant them no harm, but the way he looked her over as if he appraised a side of beef for his master stirred her blood.

Dougald offered the man some ale.  “Where are you bound?”  His words were dark, and when he handed over the drink he watched the man with the caution of a battle-hardened warrior.

“Northampton for the night; same as you I suspect.  I am Conan,” the man replied, responding in a cheerful manner as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

No one said anything in response, and she wondered if the other MacNeill brothers also worried about him.

“Where have you ridden from?”  Malcolm wiped his brow with a wetted cloth.  Like Dougald’s, his eyes remained fixed on the stranger.

“Hertford.  And you?”

“Arundel.”

“Aye.  I have sung a tale or two there.”

 “You are a bard?” Malcolm asked, his tone edged with disbelief.

Everyone in their party watched the man, as if they suspected him, too, of being not who he said he was.  Beneath his brown woolen cloak, the telltale sign of a sword hung at his hip.  His horse was a destrier...a knight’s warhorse, not a simple bard’s.  Was he a thief then?

“Aye, a bard,” Conan said, smiling, like a jester entertaining the royal family.

“You do not appear to be a bard.”  Anice wasn’t above saying what was on everyone’s minds.

His smile broadened, but his black eyes challenged her.  “The lady is right.  I have been a knight, but I have given up my sword for a time.  For now, I am a bard.  Might I join you?  ‘Tis better to journey with others than alone and become the victim of thieves.”

Anice tucked a wayward curl underneath her veil.  “To Northampton?”

“Aye, and beyond with you if I may.”

She narrowed her eyes.  They had never said their destination lay beyond Northampton.  “Think you we travel any farther than that?”

Again, the man smiled.  “’Tis my folly.  I have no idea where you are bound.”

Yet, she thought his words a lie.  “Why would you lay down your sword?”

“A most indelicate wound, milady, which has not properly healed.”

Before she could ask him to show her this wound, Malcolm interrupted her questioning. “’Tis only an hour to Northampton from here.  You may ride with us, if ‘tis your wish.”  Malcolm helped Anice onto her horse, but not before she cast him a scolding look.

She would have exposed Conan for his lie, if Malcolm hadn’t stopped her from seeing this man’s wound, which she assumed he didn’t have.  No one of their party had given their names, yet this Conan seemed not to care.  Why wouldn’t he, as a traveling bard, be interested in who he accompanied?  Would it not add to his lists of tales?

Or did he not ask because he already knew?

She’d sensed he was danger well before she set eyes on him.

“Come, ride ahead with me.”  Dougald’s voice was cheerful, but the underlying tone was a command.

As the party got underway, Anice asked, “Think you he lies, Malcolm?”

“Aye, lass, but you could have been a wee bit more subtle.  You as much as called the man a prevaricator to his face.”  Malcolm cocked a dark brow.

She was not one to play games with the likes of dangerous men.  “Aye, because that is what he is.  There is no reason to pretend he is not.”

“I did not wish you to worry that he might be a danger.”

“I would have asked him to show his wound, if you had not stopped me.”

Malcolm shook his head, his mouth tugged upwards.  “I knew that is where your questioning was headed.  Would not your steward have advised you to let him speak on your behalf?”

“He would not have wasted his breath.”

Malcolm chuckled.  “If this Conan had refused to disrobe in front of the lady to show off his indelicate wound, I would have had to force the issue.  But nay way did I want him to expose himself to you, milady.”

“What if he lies?”

“My brothers and I can ask to see this wound of his this verra eve without your witness.”

She harrumpfed.

Again, he laughed.  “Milady, your cheeks are crimson.”

She tilted her chin higher.  “We must do what we must to ensure the safety of all concerned.  If he is not who he says he is, what reason would he have to lie?”

“Any number of reasons.  He owes someone money, has left a troublesome wife behind, or a lady who he is not wed with bairn, and an angry father wants his head.”

“Or he could be a spy for His Grace’s rebellious brother.”

Malcolm nodded.  “Aye, and is traveling the area in disguise.” 

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I think he knows who we are.  Or at least me.”

Malcolm stared at her, worry etched in his features.  “What makes you believe so, lass?  Do you recognize him?”

“Nay.  But he did not ask who we were and he made my skin crawl the way he looked at me, as if he were studying me to see if I fit the description he had been given.”

Malcolm turned to watch the man.  “I had only assumed the man feasted his eyes on you because you are such a bonny lass.  I had not suspected he might have been in search of you.  But I noticed he did not ask our names.  You saw how we did not offer them either.”

“Aye, that’s why I assumed you were suspicious of him, too.”

“He rides too fine a horse and—”

“His cloak outlined his sword.”

Malcolm looked at her.  “You are verra observant, milady.”

“I fear our safety depends on our vigilance at all times.”

“Aye.”  He sat taller in his saddle.  “Which is why either my brothers or I will accompany you at all times.”

“Even to my bedchamber?”

A slow smile turned his lips heavenward while he watched Conan.  “Only I would take you there.”

“If I should become indisposed.”

He faced her and his smile broadened.

A trickle of heat curled into her belly.  What she wouldn’t give for him to join her in her bed.  Then again, whatever was the matter with her?  He would have to have a change of heart about having a Scottish lady for his bride before she could even indulge in such notions.  Though, if he’d reached a wee bit higher when he’d slid his hands up her thigh...och, she had no business thinking about that.

She wished now she had more than the ability of second sight, and could instead read Malcolm’s thoughts as his eyes looked sinfully seductive in the fading light while he studied her with a devilish smirk.

When they reached Northampton, they passed a small abbey, St. Andrews Priory on Broad Street.  Merchants dealing in fine cloth displayed their linens on Mercers Row and on Woolmonger Street, the dying and weaving of wool took place.  A grand castle sat watch over the town, protecting its inhabitants from any incursion.

Malcolm said, “I have met the Earl of Northampton, Simon de St. Liz, builder of this castle.  He was one of William’s Norman lairds during the conquest and came to have the lands and title in thus a manner—King William had Waltheof, the Norman Earl of Huntingdon, executed, some say for having been involved in a revolt with the earls against the king.  William thence offered the earl’s widow his own niece, Judith, as a bride to Simon.  But she refused saying Simon had a halting in one leg she could not abide.”

Anice quirked a brow.  Was the woman so shallow so as not to please her king, or was Simon really that dreadful a lord?  On the other hand, Anice had most likely displeased King Henry when she had said no to his advances.  But still the circumstances were different.  One was the offer of a husband who was favored by the king.  The other was an offer of a lover’s tryst.  Then again, his wanting her to wed Norman lairds hadn’t set well with her either.

“This infuriated King William,” Malcolm continued.  “He seized the castle and honor of Huntingdon, which the countess held in dower.  She and her daughter lived in a state of privation on the Isle of Ely.  But Simon was not to be deterred and though he was disappointed in not obtaining the countess of Huntington’s hand, he made his addresses to her daughter, Lady Maud.  She did accept and King William granted Simon both the titles of earl of Huntingdon and Northampton.”

“And you met him...”

“During the Crusades at the Battle of Antioch.  I think he would welcome old comrades at arm.”

“I do not know this earl.  ‘Tis good I brought you along then.”

Malcolm chuckled, shaking his head.  “You are a treasure, lass.”

His words warmed her thoroughly, but she wondered what he would think of her should she tell him about her fourth betrothed husband.  Her head pounded with frustration to think she had the worst luck with gaining a husband.  Malcolm would not think her a treasure if her learned of the manner in which her last betrothed died, she was certain.

Before they reached the castle, Conan quit the group. 

“Where is he going?” Malcolm drew closer to Dougald, with Anice at his flank when the self-professed bard headed for Draper Street.

“He says he has other business to attend in town.  If he can finish it quickly, he will join us and entertain the earl for a meal.”

Malcolm’s jaw hardened.  “I suspect the earl may know him, and he does not want that revealed.  Did he tell you anything that might give us a clue as to what he is about?”

“He is very careful not to let secrets slip, Malcolm.  But I suspect it has something to do with the lady.”

Malcolm frowned.  “How come you by this notion?”

“I told him the lady is marrying a Highlander.”

Anice gripped her reins tighter.  “Why would you tell him this?”  What if the word got back to Henry?  She tried to squash the annoyance she felt that Dougald would say anything so foolish about her to a stranger.

“To flush out the quarry, milady.  I thought he would fade away when he did not breathe for so long.  Why would he be so concerned unless he had some interest in you?”

“Mayhap because he does not like Highlanders?” she asked.

“If he does not know who you are, what difference would it make whether you marry a Highlander or no’?  I believe he knows who you are and mayhap works for the laird who wishes your hand in marriage.  The laird undoubtedly knows you are returning home.  He would want you watched while you are in the company of Highlanders.”

“Or in the company of any but himself,” Malcolm said, his voice perturbed.

Anice finally found her tongue.  “But could you have told him something other than I would marry a Highlander?  What if the word gets back to His Grace?”

“I do not think it will, milady,” Dougald said, his words even.  “I believe Conan will take the message directly back to his laird.”