Hunted (The Scottish Falconers Book 2) (11 page)

Derek watched Isobel’s face as she donned a leather glove and approached to retrieve her falcon. Her mouth was set in grim lines, but her eyes sparkled with good humor. How lovely was this woman falconer, with her shining mass of dark red hair? Derek thought of her as his, but in reality, she was not and may never be.

Without speaking a word, Isobel took the falcon from him and carried it toward the line of wooden perches where several birds already roosted. He watched her hips sway, clearly visible in her customary breeches.

In another moment, the Graham men surrounded him, all shouting at once. Derek couldn’t understand a word.

“I want my mamm! Take me to my mamm!” The child’s voice screamed.

Like a door swinging open, the men surrounding Derek parted.

William seized the opportunity to run directly to Derek and grab his leg as the boy craned his neck to look up. “Please, Derek. Please take me to Mamm.”

The wee lad’s pleading eyes were too much. Scooping him up, Derek said, “I can do that, William, if the Graham lads here will allow me.”

The boy spun his head toward Rabbie. “Will ye? Will ye let Derek take me to Mamm, Rabbie?”

The eldest Graham son smiled at the boy. “I’ll need to hear what the man has to say first, I willna allow my adopted son to be taken away without good reason.”

The men had again surrounded Derek, who still held William in his arms.

“Aye, Rabbie, ye canna trust a lying Englishman. Once a liar, always a liar.” Fin scowled and stood clenching and unclenching his fists as if ready to fight.

But Derek was in no mood to do that again. “Look, do ye want to hear me out or not? I came looking for all of ye at no small cost to myself. If I don’t get back to my regiment soon, I’ll be hung for a deserter.”

“Let him talk, Da.” Isobel had returned and stood beside her father. “It can do no harm.”

“Stay calm, lads.” Reverend Grainger had joined the crowd around Derek. “We’re all good Christians here, and as such, let us break bread together and discuss the situation peacefully and with cool heads.”

This time Boyd spoke up, but he did not seem welcoming or happy to see Derek. “Aye, there will be no bloodshed so soon after a wedding.” He turned to his friend. “Ye see, James, this is Derek Sinclair, he’s likely related to the Sinclairs of Dunbeath Castle, but he is an English soldier as well. Ye ken what the English did to Rabbie.”

The reverend clapped Boyd on the shoulder. “I ken your point, but this particular laddie didna do it. Aye? Come, let us all go inside. My wife went inside a bit ago. I expect there will be bannocks and eggs.”

Derek was more than happy to sit down for a meal with the Grahams, Graingers, and William, even though he had been seated far away from Isobel and between Fin and Rabbie. They didn’t trust him, it was plain.

He was allowed to eat his eggs and bannocks in peace for most of the meal. Isobel, Catriona, and Mrs. Grainger did most of the talking about yesterday’s wedding festivities. They had enough to gossip about for days it seemed.

With the last bit and swallow of ale, an opening in the conversation allowed Derek to speak.

“Like I said earlier, I’ve come to find out that Sir George Ogilvie and his wife, Lady Elizabeth Douglas, are being held under house arrest in Dunnottar Castle.”

“Who told ye that?” Fin demanded.

“Dunnottar was uninhabited when I saw it last,” Rabbie put in.

Derek held up a hand to quiet the others. “Thanks to the Graham family, who saved my life, I was searching for the English army to return to my duty when I was set upon by an English deserter. He took me for a Scots and tried to rob me. I was able to convince him to give me information on the whereabouts of the English army. It seems they returned to Dunnottar with the Ogilvies for lack of an alternative place to house them until they divulge the location of the Scottish regalia.”

As he spoke, Derek watched the faces of his audience carefully. At the mention of the regalia, the good reverend’s tawny eyebrows tweaked upwards. But why? Did he know something or was he merely surprised that the Ogilvies were being held prisoner for that reason?

“But we canna turn William over to the English! I’ll not allow it.” Rabbie scowled at Derek and pounded his fist on the table.

Little William began to cry in huge gulping sobs. “I want to go home. I want Mamm and Da.” His thin shoulders shook, and he buried his face in Catriona’s lap. She rubbed his back and turned anxious eyes to Derek.

“What can we do?”

Derek rubbed a hand over his face. His beard was getting thick again. He’d need to shave when he returned to soldiering.

“Listen, we are not all monsters. The Ogilvies are under ‘house arrest,’ which means they are not in a prison cell; they are in their home but cannot leave the castle grounds. I can get inside to make sure this is the case. If it looks safe for William to be with his parents, I can arrange to ‘find’ him and bring him home.”

“What do ye expect us to do, just give the lad to ye?” Fin directed a black scowl toward Derek.

William continued to wail with big, heartbreaking sobs muffled by Catriona’s lap.

Raising his voice to be heard over the din, Rabbie turned to Derek. “I need to see for myself that the Ogilvies are alive and unharmed. William will not be put in danger.”

“I understand. I would do the same if I were in your shoes,” Derek replied.

“Hush now, laddie. The grownups are talking about how to get ye home.” Boyd reached over and pulled William to a sitting position on Catriona’s lap. “There, dry your face and listen.”

Catriona handed the boy a handkerchief to mop up the tears and blow his runny nose.

Isobel passed a cup of milk and a bannock drizzled with honey to William, who managed a small, “Thank ye,” before raising the cup to his lips.

Derek leaned over to speak to the boy from his seat on the opposite side of the table. “William, do ye ken what color uniform the English soldiers wear?”

William put his cup down, leaving a film of milk on his upper lip. “Aye, Derek, they wear red jackets.”

Derek bent over and fished around inside the bag lying next to him on the floor. He pulled a red coat out, stood, and donned it. His shirt sleeves showed past the too-short jacket sleeves, and he couldn’t button the garment, but putting it on instantly made him stiffen his spine and draw erect.

Catriona gasped aloud, and Rabbie, who was seated beside Derek, let out a low growl.

“Easy, everyone, the uniform doesna make me a different person. I’m still Derek Sinclair of the Isle of Skye. The uniform will get me inside Dunnottar Castle to find William’s family.”

“I need to be putting my eyes on them myself before I let William go inside the walls.” Rabbie jumped to his feet as he spoke.

“Can you get another uniform for Rabbie, Derek?” Isobel spoke for the first time. Her words were spoken with confidence. She agreed with his plan. He sat down again.

“Good idea. I can see what’s what, get an English uniform for Rabbie, and take him inside.” Derek grinned at his beautiful, smart woman. For he thought of her as his, whether she truly belonged to him or not.

She smiled back, her eyes sparkling wonderfully.

“I willna wear that bloody thing,” Rabbie declared.

“Then ye willna step one foot inside the castle, lad.” Boyd’s voice was gentle and quiet, now that William had calmed down.

Fin stood, creating two walls of Grahams on either side of Derek. Unable to bear having them loom over him, Derek jumped up as well. The three were evenly sized.

“I’ll wear a red coat. I’ll go inside Dunnottar with ye, Derek.” The corners of Fin’s mouth lifted in what could have been a smile, if his eyes had shown good humor. He clapped a big hand on Derek’s shoulder. “He and I are good friends now. Aye?”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but saying the word doesna make you a friend, Fin. Your actions will tell.” Derek stood his ground and met Fin’s gaze steadily.

A real grin spread across the man’s ruddy face now. “Right. Right ye are, Derek Sinclair of Skye.”

“Well, if he can do it, so can I. As much as it pains me, Derek, I’ll consent to wearing an English uniform too, if it gets me inside Dunnottar.”

Rabbie’s reluctance was obvious, but Derek respected his ability to change his stance.

William, who had been industriously stuffing bannocks in his mouth while watching first one man than another, swallowed and hastily gulped a drink of milk. “I’m ready.
Tgainn!
”

Derek had changed back into his original clothing and returned Fin’s finer quality shirt and breeches. His own breeches were ragged and sported a hole in one knee. The white shirt was no longer white, despite washing it with soap. Mud had a tendency to stain. But the boots he’d originally stolen from a fallen Scotsman had weathered well, despite all of the walking he’d done.

He sat on a stone, still warm from the spring sun, and attempted to brush off the uniform jacket and make it more presentable. There was no need to rile an officer’s temper over an unkempt appearance, if at all possible.

Isobel came out of the Grainger house looking beautiful and fresh as a daisy. She had tied her shining red-gold hair back with a blue ribbon, and she wore a long, dark blue skirt; a cream-colored blouse with puffy sleeves; and a green wool doublet embroidered with intricate yellow flowers and curving lines.

Derek’s mouth fell open at the stunning picture she presented. Then realizing she carried a bundle, he rushed to take it from her.

“Here, let me.” He took the bulging cloth sack then stood there, staring at her.

“Um … it belongs in the cart … my things.”

“Oh. Right.”

They walked together to the cart where Boyd was tidily arranging everything. Derek slid his glance to Isobel and slowed his pace. “No breeches today?”

“No, I needed a change.”

“Ah, well ye look verra nice.”

Now she turned to regard him. “Would ye like me to cut yer hair for ye? The English wear shorter hair, aye? I believe Mrs. Grainger has a pair of shears.”

“Do we have time? I’d like to shave too. I noticed that Reverend Grainger is clean shaven. Perhaps he will have a sharp blade I can use.”

Boyd glanced up at them, and Derek handed over Isobel’s sack. “Aye, there’s time, but be quick aboot it.”

“Thank ye, sir.”

“Not ‘sir’, call me Boyd.” Isobel’s father gave a hint of a smile.

Perhaps Derek was not the unwelcome outcast he thought himself to be.

Derek waited outside until Isobel came out bearing a brush, shears, a wickedly sharp-looking knife, a bowl, soap, and a cloth. He followed her to the same rock he’d been sitting on earlier.

“Sit please, while I do this … and dinna worry, I’ve not cut my brothers’ throats, nor Da’s yet.”

* * *

When Derek sat on the rock again and tilted his head back to smile up at her, Isobel nearly burst into tears. She wanted to kiss him again and again and again. She wanted it so badly her heart hurt. She knew Derek was a good man.
Why is it so terrible that he has English blood and some English ways? It makes no difference to me. I love him. I want him for my own.

Giving him a faint smile in return, she nudged his head level and took the brush to his long, tangled, wavy brown locks.

“So, I suppose ye’ll be going back to soldiering when we get to Dunnottar.”

“Yes, I’ve no choice, Belle. If I dinna go back, I can be shot or hanged for a deserter.”

With a viscous yank, Isobel pulled the brush through a stubborn tangle of hair.

“Ouch!”

His hand went to the back of his head. She batted it away and picked up the scissors.

“Hold still.”

“Are ye sure that you’re not too … uh … excited to do this?”

Snip.

“No, I’m verra calm and collected. Nae worries, Derek.”

Snip.

“What will you do when we get to Dunnottar, Belle? I, um, assume you will be traveling back with your family?”

Snip.

“Aye, my loyalty is to my family. We are falconers, and Da will find work for us somewhere. Our birds will go with us wherever we venture. Latharna is loyal and true. She willna leave me.”

Now he wrapped strong fingers around her wrist to stop her and twisted to gaze up at her again. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Leaving you?”

Pulling against his grip, she tried to free her arm. “You said it yourself, the English will hang ye if ye dinna return. So aye, Derek, ye must.”

He released her and settled back in position on the rock. She picked up a strand of his long hair and snipped it to shoulder length, as was the English style.

“I know this may be too much to ask of you, Belle,” Derek spoke in a soft, gentle voice, “but if you care to wait for me, I plan to resign my commission and go back to the farm my grandparents left me on the Isle of Skye. I would ask you to be my wife, if your father will allow it.”

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Isobel’s thoughts tumbled over each other like a pile of happy puppies. On one hand, she welcomed the idea of marrying this delicious man. She could make love to him whenever she wanted, if they were to marry. On the other hand, what about her dreams?

“Would I keep my falcon, and could I still train birds?” She stopped cutting to step in front of him so she could see his face. He wasn’t toying with her, right?

He wasn’t.

When he tipped his head to look up at her from his seat on the rock, it was as if she could see their future in his soft brown eyes.
Derek Sinclair loves me. Truly.

In her mind’s eye, she saw him coming in from the field with Scottish mud on his boots. Their children would cry out with delight at their father’s enthusiastic greeting. She would walk out to meet him from their own mews where she would teach Derek and her children about the art of falconry. They would never go hungry between the crops and the hunting.

“Are ye almost done with Sinclair, Belle? Da wants to be on our way.” Fin burst her daydreams into pieces.

“Give us a few more minutes, please.” Isobel glanced up at her tall, red-haired brother. He surprised her by giving her a wink and a smile. She nodded. Her heart lifted. Fin seemed to have relented on his opinion of Derek.

With a few more snips of the scissors, Derek’s haircut was complete. She brushed it back and gathered it at the nape of his neck with a bit of twine.

Shaving him without cutting his skin called for a steady hand, so she had to avoid meeting his eyes to get the job done. The passion she saw in those windows to his soul made her knees weak and her breath come quicker. She kept her gaze on his whiskered cheeks and chin.

* * *

The sight of this woman from his vantage point below her made Derek’s blood run hot and straight to his manhood. She was bent at the waist and leaning over to shave him, giving him an up-close view right down her décolletage.

With effort, he schooled his features to bland disinterest when he wanted to touch the creamy softness right in front of him. The urge to lick his lips at the sight grew strong, but he fought it. A sideways glance told him that all three Graham men were keeping a close eye on the proceedings.

He kept his hands on his lap.

“There, all clean now. Yer skin is as smooth as a newborn babe’s bottom.” Isobel straightened and backed up a step to study her handiwork.

Derek rubbed his chin. She was right. “Thank you, Belle. ’Twill not last, though. By nightfall, I will be bristling with whiskers again.”

A musical laugh bubbled out of her. “Men are a hairy lot, true enough.”

Unfortunately, his personal time with Isobel was short-lived. With Derek helping, they soon had their meager belongings stashed in the little cart, hitched up Roger, and made ready to leave.

Derek was lifting William into the cart when he caught sight of a brief exchange between Boyd Graham and the good reverend as they came together at the door to the house. Reverend Grainger pressed a wax-sealed letter into Boyd’s hand as Derek watched. Boyd quickly stashed the letter inside his coat, and then both men turned and walked toward the rest of the family who were gathered around Roger and the cart. Derek hastily concentrated on William.

“All set then, Willie?”

“Aye. Will ye be riding with me, Derek?”

The endearing expression on the young boy’s face made Derek want to say yes, but he didn’t. “Not this time, laddie. Roger doesna need to pull me when I can walk now. I’ll be nearby, if ye need me.”

Having said their goodbyes to the Graingers, the Graham family set off to return to Dunnottar Castle with their two horses and a donkey cart. The family’s falcons had all been released to the air to follow or not, as the birds desired. Derek glanced skyward from time to time as they walked, but he rarely caught sight of the falcons.

For the entire first day, it seemed to Derek that the family had conspired to keep him away from Isobel. She and Catriona rode the horses for a few hours. Each time Derek positioned himself beside Isobel, someone would call her away or beckon to him and pull him from her side.

When she walked, the same thing happened. Finally, Fin had the audacity to drive his horse right between them and forced them apart.

“All right! I give up! Someone please tell me when I am permitted to speak to Belle,” Derek protested as he quickly jumped away from the horse’s hooves.

As annoyed as he was, it turned out that Isobel was even more upset.

She stopped dead in the middle of the road, hands on her hips, and forced them to either stop or move around her.

“
Mo chreach!
I dinna ken what you think will happen if I speak to Derek. My soul willna be cursed for all eternity, nor will I be led astray by his English ways. The more ye keep us apart, the more I’d like to be with him. So stop this nonsense! We are both grown adults and can decide for ourselves when we wish to talk and when we do not.”

Mumbled apologies and protests of innocence followed.

“Good. Now, let us be on our way in a more pleasant fashion.”

Having said her peace, Isobel stepped around Fin’s mount and walked right up to Derek. To his delight, she took his arm and held tight. Then, with her chin up, she led him forward.

“Are they following us?”

Derek glanced back. “Aye.”

She let out a sigh of relief and relaxed. “’Tis a good thing. I’ve nay idea which is the way to Dunnottar.”

He couldn’t help it. First a little smirk, then a chuckle, then full-fledged hoots of laughter shook his belly. “I do love ye, Isobel Graham,” he whispered in her ear between chuckles.

She smiled and turned her face toward the sun.