Highland Hero (4 page)

“And what if it has?”

Andrew grimaced and threaded his fingers through his curly red hair. “If the lass is as innocent and earnest as she appears to be, then ye are attempting to seduce a weelborn maid. That could bring ye a great deal of trouble. If she is helping Simon, then ye are showing her a weakness she could use. Just be wary, cousin. Either way ye step, there looms a problem.”

Lucais had no answer for that, as it was the truth. He did not think it would deter him, however. That one sweet kiss had fired his blood, and he knew he could not simply push that aside. He wanted to taste the fullness of her passion, hungered to know if the promise in her kiss could be met. Edina was certainly trouble whether she was innocent or guilty, but Lucais knew that if the chance arose to make love to her, he would not hesitate to grab it.

Edina shut the door behind her after she entered her bedchamber and sagged against it. The last few steps to her room had been hard ones to take. A large part of her had wanted her to turn around, run back to Lucais, and savor more of his kisses. Only the certainty that it would go far beyond kisses had kept her going. She needed time to think, and that kiss had shown her that she could do little of that held in Lucais MacRae’s arms.

“How is Malcolm?” she asked Mary when she saw the girl frowning at her in curiosity.

“Still asleep,” Mary replied, watching Edina closely as she walked to the bed and sprawled on top of it. “Are ye all right? Ye look as if ye got too much of the sun. Ye are verra flushed.”

“I met with your laird. He has a true skill at making me get flushed.”

“At times ye talk as if ye dinnae like him. He is a good mon. This trouble with Simon has sorely grieved him. He loved his sister and was most fond of her husband. When he realized the wee bairn was gone, he ne’er rested, searching everywhere.”

“Aye, so I have been told.” Edina had to admit that everyone at Dunmor seemed honestly fond of their laird, which would imply that he was indeed a good man.

“Some men wouldnae have tried so hard. After all, the laddie now claims a large holding that borders us on the west. Some men would want to keep that for themselves.”

“Aye,” Edina said as she slowly sat up and frowned at Mary. “They would indeed.”

“Wee Malcolm is fortunate to have a kinsmon who will tend it, and him, most carefully until the lad is of an age to claim it.”

“It wouldnae fall into Simon’s hands?”

“Nay. Why should it? Simon is no kin to Malcolm. Why should ye think he would gain?”

“It would explain why he killed Elspeth and Walter and left the wee bairn to die.”

Mary nodded as she walked to the door. “It would, but that is not why he now has their blood on his hands, nor why he will probably try to kill the bairn once he kens that Malcolm has survived. Simon is mad, insane with jealousy and hate. There is no explaining such things.”

There was not, Edina thought after Mary left. Greed for land explained such murders far more clearly. Before, there had been no reason for either Simon or Lucais to kill Elspeth or Walter or the baby. Now she saw a reason for Lucais to commit such murders.

She cursed and fell back onto the bed. It helped to have a reason, but she heartily wished it was one that pointed the finger of blame squarely at Simon. She was torn, part of her horrified that she would even think Lucais was capable of such crimes and another telling her not to be a fool, that it was something she could not ignore. Edina rubbed her forehead as she struggled to decide what, if anything, she should do. It was hard to decide when she did not even want to believe it.

Slowly, she sat up, then stood up. What she needed was more knowledge, knowledge about Lucais and about Dunmor and its people. Edina knew the people of Dunmor would never say anything bad about the laird, but what they said could still help her. She could learn about Lucais’s past, about his likes and dislikes, and even about his character by weeding through the things his own people said about him. It was time to stop just standing guard over Malcolm and take an active part in finding out exactly who wanted the child dead. The moment Mary returned, Edina was determined to go and search out a few truths.

It was late before Edina returned to her bedchamber. For the first time since she had arrived at Dunmor she had taken her evening meal in the great hall. Her intention had been to study further the laird and his people. Instead, she had spent most of the meal torn between desire and annoyance over Lucais’s blatant attempts to seduce her. She had wavered between saying yes and wanting to scream at him to stop tormenting her.

Mary helped her undress, don one of Lucais’s late mother’s nightgowns, and wash. After kissing little Malcolm good night, Edina crawled into bed feeling utterly exhausted even though she had done little more than talk to people. As she listened to Mary settle down to sleep in the little alcove near the fireplace, Edina tried to sort out her confused thoughts.

She had learned nothing bad about Lucais, which did not really surprise her, but it promised to make it more difficult to come to any decision. Simon was loathed by everyone, but that was not really enough to condemn him either. Everyone at Dunmor thought the man guilty of murder, although no one had mentioned any real proof that the man had actually done the killings. If there was some clue that had set Lucais on the man’s trail, most of the people of Dunmor did not know what it was.

It all left her very confused. She was not sure what part of her she should listen to—her heart, her mind, or her instincts. The fact that she desired Lucais made her unwilling to fully trust anything except her mind, and it did not hold enough facts to make a decision.

There were a few things in Lucais’s favor, although they were not hard, cold facts. Gar trusted the man. She simply could not bring herself to fear him. If Lucais was the murderer, then why had he done nothing to hurt her? Why had he even allowed her to come to Dunmor and keep Malcolm by her side? If there was something suspicious about all of that, she could not think what it was.

What she needed, she mused as she snuggled down beneath the covers, pausing only to pat Gar on the head before he lay down on the floor by the bed, was one strong piece of proof. She needed some act, some word, or some fact that would clear her mind of all doubt about Lucais. It had to come soon too, for instinct told her that this peace could not last much longer. No one questioned that Malcolm’s life was in danger and whoever wanted to kill the child would try again. Edina desperately hoped that she would know exactly who that person was before the next attack came.

Chapter 4

Malcolm giggled as she stood over him and shook the water from her hair. Edina could not believe she had been allowed outside the walls of Dunmor with the child, but she was not about to question her good fortune too loudly or it could disappear. It was always possible that after staying at Dunmor for two weeks, people had begun to trust her.

“Gar, get back here,” she called, and sighed as the dog disappeared into the trees on the far side of the brook she had been splashing in.

As she dressed she decided she needed to have a stern talk with her pet. Gar had become so comfortable at Dunmor, so pampered by the MacRaes, that he was not doing a very good job of guarding her or Malcolm anymore. Gar saw no threat and, although she found some comfort in that, for it implied that she was not sitting in the midst of the enemy, she had to strengthen her commands. There could yet come a time when she would need his aid.

She was rubbing her hair with a drying cloth when a faint sound made her tense. Immediately kneeling by the child and pulling her sword from its sheath, she carefully looked around. It could be just someone from Dunmor keeping a guard on her, but she needed to be sure. Still watching, she finished dressing and picked up Malcolm. The joy of her moment of freedom was gone now.

Knowing that Gar would find his own way back to Dunmor she decided that it was past time she and Malcolm returned to the safety of its high walls. She had barely taken three steps toward the keep when she knew she had waited too long. Six mounted and well-armed men rode out of the trees bordering the brook. Edina carefully set Malcolm down by her feet and faced the men squarely, her sword in her hands. She knew she did not have any chance of defeating six men, but she was determined to make them pay dearly for Malcolm’s life.

“And where did Lucais find you?” demanded a tall, bone-thin man who rode to the fore of the others. “I dinnae ken who ye are.”

“And I dinnae ken who ye are either, but I hadnae realized this was a courtesy visit.”

“Ye are no MacRae.”

“Nay. If it troubles ye so, I am Edina MacAdam of Glenfair. Does it help to ken who is about to kill you?”

The man laughed. “Ye have more spirit than wit, wench.” He gave her a mocking bow. “ ’Tis a great pity we couldnae have met at a better time and place. We could be lovers instead of enemies. I am Sir Simon Kenney.”

“Lovers? I think not, Sir Simon. I ken what happens to the lovers ye grow weary of or who displease you.”

The way his expression turned cold made Edina nervous. The man was obviously quick to anger. If she faced only him, that could have worked to her advantage. Now making him angry would make her death arrive all the sooner. She inwardly cursed and wondered where her dog and her guards were when she really needed them.

Lucais looked at the men slowly encircling Edina and softly cursed. “Ian, how could ye have let her come this far from Dunmor alone?”

Ian flushed with guilt. “Ye said we didnae need to guard her too closely.”

“That didnae mean ye could let her wander about as if all is weel and there isnae a madmon lurking about.”

“That madmon isnae lurking anymore,” Andrew drawled, putting a stop to the argument. “We have three men behind Simon and his men, and we are in front of him. Ye are the one who must decide when we attack, Lucais.”

“At least everyone will not think me some fool for the way I ordered so many men to arms just because one tiny woman and a bairn were out walking,” Lucais muttered, dragging his fingers through his hair. “An attack could get Edina and Malcolm killed.”

“There is no question that they will also die if we dinnae do something soon.”

“If only we had something to briefly distract Simon and his men.” Lucais looked around one last time before he gave the order to attack, an order he feared would be a death sentence for Edina, and his gaze settled on a familiar mottled-gray shape creeping toward Simon and his men. “Look, ’tis that cursed dog.”

“Is he going to attack?”

“Aye, Andrew,” Lucais replied, finding it hard to keep his voice low as excitement and anticipation rushed through his veins. “That ugly dog has ne’er looked more bonnie. He is about to give us the diversion we need.”

“He could get hurt,” Ian murmured even as he readied himself for the attack he knew would come at any moment.

“I pray that doesnae happen, for ’twill sorely grieve Edina,” said Lucais, never taking his eyes from the dog, tensed for the moment when the animal would spring, for that would be when he would order the attack. “Howbeit, better a dog than a woman and a child. Now, ready, lads, for the moment that beast lunges I will give the battle cry. All eyes will turn to the dog and whatever hapless soul he chooses to sink those teeth into, and that is when we will attack.”

Edina felt the sweat soak her back as Simon just studied her. There was a chance that he was trying to put her off her guard and then he would attack. She decided she had a better chance if she tried to grasp some control, if she could somehow choose the time he charged her. The easiest way to do that, she decided, was to anger him. He had already shown her how easy that could be. It was a weakness she could have used well at some other time, but now it could at least serve to ensure that she was not cut down too easily. If she could make him attack, she could at least take a few of Simon’s men with her, perhaps even Simon himself.

“Why do ye hesitate? Do ye fear a wee bairn and a woman?” she asked.

“I but wonder what ye are doing here and why ye are ready to die for that child,” Simon said in a tight voice, revealing that her words had already stirred his anger.

“Not everyone can kill a bairn or leave them to rot in the wood.”

“Ah, so that is how he has returned to Dunmor. Ye had the misfortune to find the bastard.”

“ ’Tis your misfortune. Come, let us dance. I grow weary of waiting for you. I cannae understand why any mon would be so cowardly as to slay a child, but, mayhap, ’tis that verra cowardice that causes ye to hesitate now.”

Simon edged closer, his thin face white with fury. “Ye sorely beg to die, wench. Mayhap I but do the lad a kindness. A bairn should be with its parents, should it not? I mean to take him there.”

Just as Edina was sure he was about to lunge at her, a gray shape hurled itself at the man on Simon’s right. She gaped along with Simon and his men as Gar’s attack sent the man tumbling off his horse, screaming with pain as Gar savaged his sword arm. A heartbeat later a deep, fierce battle cry rent the air. Edina had no idea whose battle cry it was, but she did not hesitate to take advantage of this further distraction. She grabbed Malcolm by the back of his gown and ran toward Dunmor.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw three familiar figures race from the trees straight toward Simon and his men. The moment they were between her and Simon she paused, sheathed her sword, and pulled a crying Malcolm into her arms. She rubbed his back, calming him as she waited for Gar to trot up to her. Lucais, Ian, Andrew, and three other men from Dunmor were pressing Simon and his men hard. It was tempting to stay and see how the battle went, but she had to think of Malcolm’s safety. At least now she was certain who the enemy was. After giving Gar a rewarding pat for his bravery, she trotted back toward Dunmor, praying every step of the way that Lucais would win, that he would kill Simon and put an end to the threat to Malcolm’s life.

“Curse it a thousand times,” yelled Lucais as he stopped, bent over slightly, and tried to catch his breath. “We will never catch the bastard.”