Hannah Howell (4 page)

“What about the tunnel?” he snapped.

“Ah, aye, that. There is a room or two off to the side of it. I have explored them a few times. They are places to store the harvests and tithes paid, things that ought to be kept cooler—like apples or wine. All keeps have them, do they not? Never mind. I was creeping through the tunnel one day, about a fortnight past, and heard my uncle talking.”

“To whom? One of the Black Douglases’ men?”

“Aye. In truth, I think he must be someone important within that clan. ’Twasna the usual messenger, and he spoke to my uncle as an equal; nay, as one above him. He also spoke of—well, reminded Uncle of something from the past, a secret my uncle doesna want told. Then he asked if the goods my uncle was sending to the Black Douglases would remain unspoiled, for they wouldna be stored as well as they had been. He wished assurance that they would last until the start of May.”

“Are ye certain of this? Would ye swear to it?”

“Certain. There was a secretive air to their manner. I feared I was hearing words they wouldna wish me to hear. I didna linger but slipped away as swiftly and as silently as I was able.”

“That was wise. They would have killed you if they had thought ye had discovered anything.” He slammed his fist into his palm. “Two months. It concurs with the bit I learned.”

“Which is?”

“That an army of thousands is being readied to march against the king.”

“ ’Tis so difficult to believe. Why? Why would my uncle risk his life and blacken the name of the family?”

“If ye think on it, I believe ye will soon understand.”

“I dinna have to think on it too long. The man thinks to gain some grand title and rich lands. Yet, what hold do the Douglases have on him? This all seems too great a gamble. My uncle prefers less danger.” She paled as she heard her uncle and the Douglas man speaking again in her mind, suddenly recalled words she had ignored before. “This isna the first time my uncle has dealt in treason.”

“Nay?”

“Nay. The hold the Black Douglases have on him is proof that he has the blood of James the First on his hands.”

Revan felt vaguely stunned. Here was all he had been looking for. He had spent a great deal of time in spying, courting Brenda, and engaging in general subterfuge, yet, in a few minutes Tess had told him as much as he had discovered in months. What was somewhat irritating was that she had not even been trying to find out anything while he had worked so hard to discover so little.

Suddenly he stopped pacing to stare at her. Thurkettle had to know that she could have seen something, would innocently have espied some of his treasonous activities. The man had wit enough to realize she could be a wellspring of incriminating information, that all she needed was to be carefully questioned. It gave Thurkettle all the more reason to want her dead.

She was in as much danger as he was. He had thought so before, but now knew for certain. It meant he was hindered with her until Thurkettle was no longer a threat. Just as there were few he could trust not to betray him, there were few he could trust to keep her safe. Since he had dragged her into the middle of it all, it was his responsibility to keep her from suffering the consequences. At the moment it looked a herculean task. He was not even sure he was going to be able to save himself.

“Ye dinna think that will help you?” she finally asked, disturbed by the way he scowled at her.

“Oh, aye, ’twill help me—if I can get the information to the king or his men. The information ye have, however, isna going to help
you
at all.”

“Nay. I ken that. ’Tis but another reason for him to try and kill me. Aye, and the Black Douglases will wish me silenced as well.”

“I wondered if ye would understand that.”

“It wasna hard. The very moment I realized I had discovered something that could hurt my uncle, I realized that he would ken it, too. Or he willna wish to chance that I saw something. What difference does it make? Dead is dead no matter what the reason. He may have two motives to kill me now, but he can only kill me once.”

Tess wished she was as calm as she sounded. She walked back to the fire and sat down, staring into the flames. There had been a lot of danger in her short life from sickness to clan feuds and battles. They were dangers everyone faced, however, mostly impersonal dangers. This threat was aimed at her personally. It would not come and go in a winking but linger, pursuing her until her uncle was stopped. It terrified her, but she fought to subdue that. What she faced would require strength.

Returning home became her goal. She wanted the comfort and safety of her father’s ever-increasing family. The Delgados and the Comyns would form a tight protective circle around her that her uncle would never dare to confront.

Glancing up, she saw Revan moving toward her again. He crouched by the fire and met her gaze briefly before she returned to watching the flames. She was going to have to accustom herself to the fact that she was dependent upon him, upon his goodwill, protection, and skill. Since she did not really know the man, she could not be sure he was capable of any of that.

“Now, Tess,” Revan began, then paused to sit down by her side. “There are two ways this could turn. Your uncle could end our threat to him, or we could end his to us and the king.”

“Are ye afraid I am going to get into the midst of all that, try to stop it? Even try to help my uncle in some way?”

“A wee bit—aye.”

“Well, dinna fret. I regret that part of my family will be harmed—nay, will die—and that the name of Thurkettle will be tainted with the stain of treason. But ye dinna have to worry that I am going to let myself get killed just to save his hide, especially when it would be him doing the killing. Neither will I believe him if he tries to tell me I would be safe if I did what he wanted. Even before this tragedy came about, I kenned my uncle for a liar, not to trust his word for a minute.” She frowned as she remembered there was more than her uncle involved. “What about the queenly Brenda, the love of your life?”

He opened his mouth to deny that last remark, then decided it would be better to ignore it. “If Brenda is involved—”

“Oh, aye, she is. Sweet Brenda is involved right up to her big blue eyes. She could never resist being in the middle of a plot.”

“Then she will meet her downfall alongside her father and the Black Douglases.”

“Brenda willna suffer any downfall, and well ye ken it. She will use the same wiles on her judges as she used on you. Aye, and they will act just as lackwitted.” She shook her head, not really wanting Brenda to suffer badly but not wanting her to escape punishment for such a heinous crime. “That is, if ye catch her. She is no doubt busily arranging an escape with as much money as she can grab. I sometimes think she is far more clever than her father.”

“May we forget her? That matter can be tended to later. She isna riding about trying to pierce us full of arrows.”

“Well, what do ye plan to do about the ones who are? Are we to but sit here?”

“For a while.”

“Why? This may be a good defensive position, but it can also turn into a trap.”

“I ken it. I have to stay in this area until Thursday.”

“That is six days away! Ye think we can hide here for that long without being discovered?”

“ ’Tis what I am hoping. I have to meet someone a few miles from here. ’Tis all arranged.”

“Wasna anything arranged in case there was trouble, trouble like we are having now?”

“Aye, he will go searching for me. But I canna allow that to happen. Your uncle would murder him. I mean to stay here for as long as I can. Also, he can take the information I have gathered back to the king. That can only help us. None of those who hunt us ken this man. He may succeed. Aye, and he could send us some help, too.”

“I can get us help.” She doubted he would really believe her, as it was too soon for them to trust each other much, but it was the first chance she had had to mention her relatives, to propose going to them for aid.

He studied her closely. There was a look of hope in her expression. There was also a touch of what, on many another, he would have termed cunning. On this open-faced, easily read woman he was not sure what to call it. She was going to try to convince him of something, and he girded himself to ignore the plea in those big, dark eyes.

“How can ye do that? Ye ken someone who might be useful to us?”

“My father’s family—the Delgados and the Comyns.” She could tell that he was going to refuse that source, and she frantically tried to think of what she could say to convince him otherwise.

“Your uncle will undoubtedly suspect that ye would go to them, Tess.”

“I am sure he will, but he will be very careful about drawing too near to any of them, especially if he thinks I have reached them and told them what he is plotting.”

“I am certain they are able to fight and protect you, but this is a matter for the king’s men.”

“Even more reason to go to them. Half of them deal in the law. Many of the others are soldiers, skilled men-at-arms. I thought I made mention of that once before. Well, it doesna matter. They truly could aid us. There is certainly enough of them to provide plenty of protection.”

“My allies can protect us.”

“And where are they?”

“With or near the king—Stirling.”

“Mine are nearer—Edinburgh. This side of the city. They have a fine strong keep there.”

“Aye, that is nearer to us, but we have to elude your uncle’s men all the way. And soon, mayhaps, the Black Douglases as well. As I said, he is certain to ken ye will try to reach them and do his best to stop you.”

“Since we have to travel through the enemies’ lands to reach the king, we will have to elude them anyhow.” When he just frowned, she sighed. “Ye dinna trust me, do ye?”

“Do ye trust me?” he asked instead of answering. Strangely he did trust her, but he did not want her to know how close he was to accepting everything she said as gospel.

“Nay, not all that much.”

“I will consider what ye suggested. Will that satisfy?”

“Aye.”

He stood up and headed toward the cave opening. “I am going to find some wood. Ye stay here.”

“The fool speaks as if I have some choice,” she muttered after he left.

At least he had said he would think about it. It was better than the flat no she had anticipated. She had six days to convince the man, six days to change “considering” to conviction.

“I need a bath.”

Revan swore softly and turned from cleaning his sword to glare at her. She had woken up with that demand upon her lips and had kept at him ever since. He was in no mood to put up with her stubborn persistence, not after four nights of increasingly disturbed sleep. Somewhere under those ill-fitting clothes she wore was a softness, a softness that kept ending up pressed close to him in the night, a softness that was feeding a growing frustration within him. He was having enough trouble coping with the allure of her thick raven hair and big brown eyes. Feeling those soft curves pressed against his back in the night was almost more than he could deal with.

“It can wait until we are someplace safer,” he snapped.

She glared right back at him, her hands on her hips. “It canna wait. I was intending to indulge in a hot bath when you strode into my life and ruined it. I have had quite enough of being filthy, of spending day after day in these dirty clothes. Now, I ken there is a source of water about somewhere near, as ye keep bringing buckets in. Where is it?”

“Curse your eyes.” He slammed his sword down and rose to his feet in one angry movement. “Ye can have your cursed bath, although ’tis a very poor time to be so particular.”

“I am nay being particular. I stink.”

“Nay, ye dinna. I havena noticed any smell.” He rather wished he had, for it might help to stem his errant desires.

“Mayhaps that is because ye have your own aroma to savor.”

She knew that was a lie, and that only added to her annoyance. While she struggled along with inadequate dabbings, he had clearly been bathing. It was unfair.

“Fetch the things ye will need, and I will show you where the water is. Ye can have a quick bath. I repeat—
quick.”
When all she did was grab the soap she had discovered in his supplies, he frowned. “Ye will need something to dry yourself with.”

“I will use my clothes before I wash them.”

“Ye plan to wash your clothes as well?”

“Aye, I do, and there is no need to shout. I only have these, and I am not putting them back on dirty.”

“Well, ye arena going to sit about outside—in the open—until they dry, either,” he grumbled as he moved to his supplies, where he found a clean shirt and thrust it toward her. “Ye can put this on, then get back here and dry your clothes over the fire.”

She eyed the shirt warily. It would be big on her but not big enough. There would be a lot of her left showing. When she looked at him, intending to protest, she saw him already stepping out of the cave. Deciding she could tolerate a little immodesty for the sake of cleanliness, she hurried after him.

When they reached the small, clear pool, fed by a tumbling rivulet originating from high up in the rocks, she almost hit him. The place was close to their cave and well sheltered from view. As far as she could see, there was no reason for him to deny her access unless he still feared she might run off. She watched him check for snakes for a minute.

“I hope you enjoyed hoarding this all to yourself,” she said as she sat down to yank off her boots.

“Now, Tess—”

“Ye had best return to guarding our wee hole in the rocks. I am too eager to get clean to listen to any convoluted excuses for your greediness.”

“Well, just dinna dawdle. This place may look sheltered, but it can be reached—very easily,” he warned as he walked away.

Fighting the urge to tug her forelock, she looked around again. It was sheltered, but he was also right, much to her annoyance. Since it was at the foot of the rocks, it could be easily reached by horse. Shrugging, she started to undress. Her uncle’s men had not been around for quite a while. Although it was possible they could return to the area, she had enough time to bathe. She would not let Revan’s ill humor make her fear every shadow.

After scrubbing her clothes and laying them out in the sun to dry, she jumped into the pool. The cold water stole her breath away for a moment. Once that shock had worn off, she luxuriated in the pleasure.

Idly soaping herself, she began to think about Revan. He was in her thoughts much too often, but what could she expect? They were together night and day. She was far too aware of him as a man, one who made her feel all too much the woman. She was thinking of kisses—and of a lot more than kisses. A curiosity about all that could be shared between a man and a woman, about passion, had risen to a keen edge within her.

Her curiosity was fed by Revan, for he was far too attractive for any woman’s peace of mind. Living so close to him for days, she had tried to find fault, some unattractive twist to his character, some flaw that would stem her growing fascination with him. He had flaws, but they were not doing a thing to halt her wanting. Even when she grew annoyed with him, it was only a temporary check. It did not take long for the interest to return in full force.

“He definitely has faults,” she muttered as she began to scrub her hair. “I simply must try to concentrate on them more.”

He was arrogant, she told herself. Then she reluctantly admitted she had known those more arrogant than he, and he had some right to what he did have.

He had a temper. But then, she mused, so did she.

He was also untrusting, but then, she was finding trust a little hard to grasp herself at the moment.

There was a definite authoritarian streak in the man, but then, did the situation not call for decisiveness?

She cursed. His faults simply were not deep enough. They were present but too easily tolerated—or too close to her own to criticize without hypocrisy.

There were also too many good things about him. That was the real problem. Faults were the last things on her mind when he looked at her, with his fine blue gray eyes softened with interest or understanding. Or, she thought with a scowl, when she woke to find that big strong body of his curled close to hers, warming her sometimes a little too much. It was almost embarrassing to recall how she reacted to his smiles. She was soft clay in his hands. Fortunately he did not know that yet.

Even as she ducked beneath the water to rinse out her hair, she amended that last statement to—he could not know for certain. She was not secretive. What she felt or thought was all too often clear to read on her face. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that Revan had gleaned a hint of what she felt. It was up to her to keep it only a hint. That was not going to be easy, not when her emotions were so strong and so tangled. As she lazily paddled about the pool, she hoped he was having as much difficulty as she was.

 

 

Revan sat in front of their hideout blindly staring off into the distance. He tried not to think about what Tess was doing, but it was proving impossible. The softness he had felt curled against him was being revealed, and he ached to take a peek. If nothing else, she might prove far less attractive than his imaginings, which could serve to stem the wanting eating away at him. He badly needed that.

Frustration was slowly chipping away at his common sense. He still found that curious. She was a pretty little thing but had a sharp tongue and, dressed as she was, was not seductive-looking in the least. She was the last woman he would expect to be tied up in lustful knots over. Yet, he was and it was growing worse.

Well, he could just forget it, he thought to himself. Undoubtedly she was a virgin, and feeling lustful over a woman like her would have him standing before a priest before he could spit.

He shook his head. Even that old warning, one that had always cooled his ardor before, did not work. What he needed was to put some distance between them, but that was impossible for at least the next two days. Most likely even longer because she was in as much danger as he was. And he could not just leave her somewhere.

“So rein it in, Revan,” he admonished himself. “Then ye will be able to ride away without guilt or regret when this is done.”

He scowled at the vista spread out before him. The girl had an unsettling effect upon him. For one thing, he never used to talk to himself.

“Which wouldna be so bad if it helped.” He glared in the direction of the pool, then tried to concentrate on watching for any hint of trouble.

She was touching emotions inside of him he really did not want disturbed. He had his life all planned out. He was a knight in service to the king. It was a dangerous position, one meant for a solitary man with no ties. Lust was acceptable, a shallow if sometimes fierce feeling that could be enjoyed, then discarded. He did lust after Tess, but there was more, too much more. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, fight it, ignore it, he knew she was stirring far more than his lust. That was dangerous. That made her someone to avoid. Unfortunately, he could think of no way to do that—not for some time, anyways. So he was stuck, stuck within reach of those huge brown eyes which seemed to look right inside of him and demand he feel more than passion, more than an ache in his groin.

Like protectiveness, he mused, and cursed. She also held his interest. He knew there was a sharp mind behind those beautiful eyes. He found himself wanting to know its twists and turns. At times she could stir what could only be termed tenderness inside of him. That could prove a real threat.

“Almost,” he grumbled, “as big a threat as those five horsemen riding toward her bathing pool.”

It took a moment for what he was seeing, for the import of his own words, to sink into his mind. Then he gaped, coming to full attention. Ambling straight toward Tess were five horsemen. Despite the distance, he recognized the slovenly riding style of Thurkettle’s men. As he raced down the steep path to the small pool, he prayed for time. He would need it in order to get Tess safely out of sight.

The instant he reached the edge of the pool, he started to pick up her clothes. “Come along, Tess. Ye have to hie back to the cave—now.”

Crossing her arms over her breasts, Tess crouched in the water up to her neck. “What are ye doing?”

“Thurkettle’s men are headed straight toward you.”

He was gratified to see an appropriate look of alarm on her face. What annoyed him was that, even now, with danger but yards away, he was thinking about things that had nothing to do with that danger. Things like wanting to shed his clothes and climb into the water with her, like how much more they could do besides swim.

“Well, let me have my clothes,” she snapped. “And turn your back.”

“There is no time to get dressed! As it is, we will be fortunate to reach the cave without being seen. There is no time for some cursed maidenly modesty.”

“I canna simply run out there. I am naked.”

“God’s beard, lass, five men will be riding through the scrub any moment now. If ye hesitate much longer, your modesty willna be the only thing slighted. Ye have got a choice. Either show me some bare skin as ye hie to safety or stay here and be murdered. Which is it? Bare arse or dead arse?”

“Bare.”

She bolted from the water, grabbing her shirt as she ran by him. It took Revan a moment to follow. The sight of her slim naked form had knocked all good sense from his head. By the time he started after her, she had his shirt on, lacing it up even as she ran.

When they reached the cave, he was right behind her. He gave her a nudge inside, then turned to see where Thurkettle’s men were. He pressed himself against the highest point of the rocks and watched as the five riders found the small hidden pool. He inwardly cursed when one proved alert enough to find the footprints he and Tess had just left. That ensured that the men would linger in the area, stay far too close for comfort. While it was true they had been close before, they had never been given such a clear reason to stay around. Those tracks gave them one.

Dashing back into the cave, he came face to face with a wide-eyed Tess. She looked far too distractingly enticing clad only in his shirt. He wanted to order her to get dressed but swallowed that urge for two reasons. Her clothes were still wet, and he was sure he would deeply embarrass her. It was not really her fault he could not control his baser emotions. Although, he mused with a touch of irritation, it would help if she did not have such long, slender, beautifully shaped legs.

“Did they leave?” she asked.

“Nay. They willna. We left our marks all around that pool, and one of the fools has spotted them.”

“I am sorry.”

“ ’Tis not your fault. I wasna keeping as close a watch as I should have. I was too slow to see them. That error meant I didna gain myself time enough to take all the precautions I could have—like brushing out our tracks.”

“So ye feel they will linger here, search for us.”

“By now Thurkettle must be getting very annoyed.”

She grimaced. “They will stay.”

“Aye, so I thought.”

“And they will look very hard. So now what do we do?”

“For now we stay here.” He moved to the fire and started to put it out. “This isna an easy place to find. If we hold quiet and remain out of sight, they could yet miss us.” Once the fire was out, he led his horse to the far back of the cave, then saddled it.

“Do you expect to have to make a run for it?” she asked as she watched him.

“ ’Tis always best to be prepared.”

“Mayhaps we should just leave now.”

“The moment they found the pool, we lost all chance to do so without being seen. They havena found us, just ken that we were about. We may get lucky. They could easily quit the game, decide we moved on.”

“We havena had a great deal of good fortune.”

“True,” he said as he returned to the mouth of the cave, “so I have another plan or two in mind.”

“And what are they?”

“Dinna fret about it. Just stay right here and be quiet.”

“Ordering me about again,” she muttered as she watched him crouch down at the cave’s opening.

Sighing, she wrapped her arms about herself. Now came the waiting—waiting for discovery or waiting for their tenuous safety to return. She feared it would be the former. Her uncle could be impressive when he was furious or in fear of his own safety, as she was certain he was by now. Four days of fruitless searching would surely have strained her uncle’s none-too-well-controlled temper. And her uncle’s men would not want to return unsuccessful. They would look hard. Fools though they were, they were also stubborn. There was a sign for them to follow now, a hint that the victims they sought were close at hand.