Passion and Plaid - Her Highland Hero (Scottish Historical Romance) (18 page)

Gavin moved his hand to his belt. So did one of
the men.

“Don’t try it. You’ll have a hole through your
head before you can say ‘haggis’, you filthy thief. See? It doesn’t feel very
good to be called names, does it? Why do you keep doing this, Gavin? Why
bother? Is it really worth it, trying to right all the wrongs of the world one
after another? You could have made yourself rich beyond your wildest
imagination – which, given your ancestry, probably is rather modest.”

“No,” Gavin said through tightly-clenched teeth.
“You dinna understand. I canna expect someone like you to ever understand.”

“Oh is that so? Then tell me, Mr. Macgregor, what
are you doing all this for? Why do you keep constantly fighting? How do you
have the energy?”

Gavin clenched his jaw. “I wouldn’t expect someone
like you to understand.”

“Try me. Your tenacity is fascinating. I’d love to
know how you keep going when things are so obviously hopeless.”

“It’s what is
right
,” Gavin said. “To keep
people like you and Willard from running this whole country into the ground,
and keep you from abusing people who’ve done nothing worse than being born.”

With a crinkled forehead, Alan placed his hand on
Gavin’s shoulder, squeezing the Scotsman’s arm. “And how has that turned out
for you?”

Gavin slapped his hand away, grabbed the sheriff’s
lapel and pulled him close enough that the sweet stink of Alan’s breath made
him just a little nauseated.

“I pity you,” he whispered. “I pity your greed and
your loneliness and your anger. Where does it end, sheriff? Or does it not? Is
there anything you
won’t
do?”

As he spoke, Gavin’s voice got lower. Alan pursed
his lips tighter. “Not if the –”

“Not if the pay is high enough?” Gavin interrupted
him and yanked on his collar. “Aye? Did I read you right, then? I dinna know
what made you like this, Alan, but I
do
know that no one becomes a
creature like you without a reason. What is it? What made you into this
thing
?
Lost love? Broken heart? What was it?”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed to squinty, pig-like
slits above his flushed cheeks. “Let me
go
,” he sneered.

Gavin, just as he was told, shoved the sheriff
backwards, letting him tumble to the ground. His arse smacked the dirt hard
with a meaty thud, and everyone near enough to see began to laugh.

“Try that again,” he said as he stood and brushed
the dirt from his trousers. “Try anything like that again, and I’ll signal the
mayor up there, and you’ll never see your precious little Kenna again. The ship
is waiting to take her away and it isn’t more than a half-day’s ride from here.
With one word, I can have your friends all killed, and have you dragged to the
dock to watch your love sail away forever. And then I’d have you killed, too.”

“Oh aye? Is that how it would happen? You seem
very sure that these hired swords,” Gavin turned his gaze upon the two men
flanking Alan, “are going to do anything you ask of them. What is it that you
think gives you so much power over men?”

“Of all the ridiculous questions you’ve asked me
and the silly things you’ve said, Ghost of Edinburgh, that right there is the
most foolish. Franks, Winston, grab those two ruffians and drag them to the
contest field. Get the Spaniard too when we get out there. They’ve got people
to entertain.”

Immediately, one of them grabbed Gavin by the back
of the neck and the other put his hand on John’s shoulder. They were both
shoved through the crowd with the sheriff close at their heels, laughing as he
went.

“Money, Mr. Macgregor,” he said. “Everyone in the
world is your friend when you have enough money.”

F
estival Grounds

August 19, Early Afternoon

––––––––

“Y
ou heard him, boy, get out there and show us how
well you can shoot a bow!” the big, East India Company mercenary said. He continued
to threaten John and Gavin with his hand on his pistol, pushing John off the
sidelines and into the center of the contest field.

At the north end of the area, Mayor Willard
grinned and applauded with everyone else. He seemed to enjoy himself, though a
slight sneer marked his face. The mercenary, Franks, wiped blue woad paint off
his hand and onto Gavin’s leather chest-plate.

“Ach, thanks, I thought I needed a little color.”

“Shut up, Scot. No one asked for your opinion.”

All eyes turned to Mayor Willard when he cracked
his walking stick against the floor at his feet.

“Right! As you all know, this is our second
contest of the day.” He laughed a little as he spoke, which struck Gavin as
strange, considering the man’s previous demeanor. His entire mood seemed to
change into something much more jovial before everyone’s eyes. “I’m sure you’ll
all find this as entertaining as the last one. I hope to see some tremendous
feats of accuracy with the bow. Everyone will use the same equipment, of
course, and the winner will join the man who called himself the Duke of Marlborough
in celebrating the harvest with me and my beautiful bride at my manor this
evening. Contestants! Announce yourselves!”

Two men, a pair of twins, shuffled to the line.
“David and Dougal, of Duncraig.”

“Very good, next?”

“Hamish Staig,” said a large man with a round
belly and a red beard.

“Staig? Which village do you call home?”

“Ach, neither. I grew up in Duncraig and came back
to visit me father and come to the festival.”

The mayor nodded, grinning. “Next?”

Seven more men moved to the line and announced
themselves, where they were from, and a couple of them even made token ‘hail
the king’ statements. As John stepped up, he glanced back to Gavin, who nodded
solemnly, and the mercenary Franks, who fingered his pistol. Taking a deep
breath, he searched the crowd for Lynne, but couldn’t find her, though he saw
Elena and Olga. Finally, he looked at the sheriff, who spat.

“Oh now that’s a fascinating costume, who might
you be?” The mayor said as John stepped to the line.

“Sir? I couldna hear.”

“I asked who you were, son. Painted up like that,
half-naked and immodest as Adam before the fall, I imagine you must have some
interesting story for how you’re dressed.”

John shrugged. “If truth be told, Councillor, it
were my woman. She told me that if I had to appear before both the villages, I
may as well make use of the gifts God above gave me.”

“Oh, I see,” Willard said. “So your woman wishes
you to show yourself off to everyone?”

“Nay, sir, not at all. I think she were referring
to my great talent for mixing blue paint!”

The audience erupted in laughter, and he finally
saw Lynne, who was standing right where he expected, shaking her head. He
thought he saw her roll her eyes, but as far away as he was, it was a bit hard
to tell. When John turned back to Willard, the mayor had sat, and was picking
at the skin of an apple.

“The rules,” Rollo read from a parchment as he
stumbled to the rail, “are the same as always. Everyone will fire at once, five
arrows, one after another, when told to pull and loose by the judge on the
field. Whichever two men have the most arrows closest to the center of the
target will remain while the rest will vacate the field. Those two will fire
arrow after arrow at the same target until one man shoots further from the
center than his opponent. Any questions?”

By the time anyone had thought to ask a question,
the little man had already sat.

Everyone stepped forward to the line, drew, and
fired. Half those on the line missed the target entirely with their first arrow.
Of the rest, two managed to hit the outer ring, John struck between the ring
and the bull’s eye and the man three positions over from him hit directly in
the center.

“Pull!” the judge shouted to begin the second
round. “Loose!”

The arrows flew, and the results were similar to
the first time. A good deal of frustrated groaning preceded the calls of pull
and loose for the next firing, and the next. By the time the last pull of the
first round came about, John and his opponent from down the line were untouchable
by the other competitors.

“Craig Donaldson! Man in blue woad! You two
remain. Congratulations.” The field judge summoned the two men and raised their
arms above their heads. A slight roar of cheering moved through the crowd, and
the arrows were plucked as the two men moved back to the line.

“Woad, you’re up first!” John looked around,
hoping to see Lynne before he took his shot, but she was lost somewhere in the
crowd.

John took a deep breath, stepped to the line, and
relaxed his shoulders.

“Pull!” The judge shouted. John lifted the bow,
pulled the string back until it touched his cheek, and held.

“Loose!”

John’s arrow flew and struck the target with a
loud thunk.
Not bad
. The crowd roared approval, but something else
caught his attention when he turned back to let the other man take his turn.

“What’s...what’s going on over there?” John said,
getting the judge’s attention with a pat on the shoulder. “Has a fight broken
out?”

As he watched, John realized that the commotion
was only getting worse. A larger noise rose, and when he looked to Gavin, he
noticed his friend was only being guarded by one of the Company men. The
sheriff and the other mercenary had gone. His eyes shot back to the uproar, and
when he heard “John!” in a voice he knew all too well, a voice he loved more
than anything in the world, he felt a knot in his chest.

“Wh – what’s going on?” He asked the judge, who
was standing on his tip-toes and trying his best to see into the crowd.

“Dunno, I canna see anythin’ but looks like that
man o’er there’s got hisself a couple of lady friends. And one of ‘em looks
like she could take him wi’out much trouble.”

“Only two, but-”

“JOHN!”

Lynne’s shriek broke through the crowd’s low groan
and John shot to life. From the line where he stood to fire his arrows, he saw
that Lynne was in a small audience area about fifty yards away. He notched an
arrow, drew the bow and waited. Lynne swatted the second of the East India
Company mercenaries and then rammed her knee directly into his gut. When the
man doubled over, she kneed him in the face, sending him careening backwards
with a loud, pained grunt.

Still with his arrow notched, John looked on as Lynne
mercilessly pummeled a man who was at least twice her size, in utter awe, and
as his heart started to beat harder, absolutely in love. In spite of everything,
a wide grin spread across his face as Lynne delivered a final kick to the
downed man’s teeth and then stepped over him, pointed at the sheriff and
challenged him to come on and try her as well.

“Atta lass,” John said as he grinned, proud as
ever of her. When he saw Alan’s head bob between a pair of spectators, he
thought momentarily about letting his arrow fly. He was almost certain he would
have pierced the stumpy man’s head and nothing else, but knew that at any
moment someone could move in front of him entirely on accident.

Leering, Alan rubbed his fingers against the palms
of his sweat-slick hands and spat. “How long do you think you can keep
running?”

“Running? Looks to me like I’m fighting, you
little weasel,” Lynne shot back. “Whyna come over here and try and take me
yourself instead of sending your goons?”

Behind her, the huge mercenary stirred, and pushed
himself first to a knee, then to his feet. His lips were bloody, his eye
heavily bruised, and he rubbed his stomach where Lynne had assaulted him.

“We will see how long that lasts. I don’t suppose
you’ve got any weapons in that ridiculous getup you’re wearing?”

“Come and find out, runt,” Lynne said as she wiped
her hand across her lips and crouched into a position from which she could
easily pounce.

Alan leaned back, laughed, and hooked his thumbs
on the buttons of his dirty waistcoat. Lynne saw that he had a pistol tucked in
his belt. Dangerous, yes, but he only had one chance to be dangerous. And she
knew very well that once he fired, she could be on him, and...interrupting her
planning, a hand fell heavy on her shoulder.

“What is-”

“This? You’re a feisty one,” the mercenary said.
Lynne noticed he was missing a tooth and felt rather proud for a moment. “But
you’re done. Come along. Easier this way.”

She squirmed, first left and then right. She tried
the man’s grip by yanking on his thumb, but he was just too strong for her. A
backwards kick bounced off his leg, and he chuckled. “Like I said, feisty. I
like feisty.” Effortlessly, he dragged her along through the crowd and shoved
her into Olga and Elena, both too confused and frightened to move.

“Alright, alright,” the sheriff said waving his
hands above his head. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m a deputy of King
George himself. Nothing to worry about. These three are petty thieves,
suspected of pickpocketing in Edinburgh. Don’t know why they bothered running
so far, but there it is. Go back to enjoying the games, show’s over.”

“What you mean?” Someone in the audience shouted.
“You’re the mayor’s stooge! I saw you wi’im earlier today! These three ain’t
done nothin’!”

“Calm down, calm down.” Alan opened his waistcoat
and fished the pistol out of his belt, though he fumbled it once before
actually getting it free of his trousers. “I told you, I’m the law. Settle down
or you’re coming with them.”

The man who’d come to the ladies’ defense thought
better of his bravery, and quieted, but not before adding, “you won’t get away
with this forever” which just made the sheriff chuckle.

“You people. You simple, simple, country people.
Life here is nice and calm. Let it stay that way. Move, I’ve got business to
take care of.” Alan shoved and pushed and even kicked someone on his way out of
the crowd. When he was free, he turned to John and said, “I bet you’re having
second thoughts about coming here and challenging me again, eh, you
two-fingered freak?”

John drew his lips tight and sucked the bottom one
between his teeth. He thought of a million witty quips. “I’ve got your beady
little eyes right in my sight,” he shouted. “Let them go, or you’re going to be
a skewer.”

“Oh! Is that so? Quite a distance you’d have to
shoot. Judging from how many times you missed the mark in that first round of
the contest, you sure you won’t stick one in your pretty little woman here? Or
one of your friends? Maybe you ought not try and be a hero. Leave that to
someone else.” Pointedly, he looked at Gavin, who only sneered as Franks
squeezed his shoulder.

“Thank you, sheriff,” Mayor Willard called from
his box. “Thank you for taking care of those ruffians.”

Beside him, Kenna stood and leaned over the rail,
looking at her friends, and then over to the holding area where Gavin was
standing with a pistol wedged in his back. Then she looked to John. Finally,
she turned to Rollo, who looked at her with an apologetic look in his soft eyes
and shook his head.

“Now! Let’s get back to the festivities, what do
you say?”

The applause that Willard expected didn’t come.
Instead, there was only a low grumbling sort of noise from the audience. Alan
shuffled back to where Gavin and his second mercenary stood, patted the big man
on the arm, and then waved to Willard. “Not a problem,” he shouted. Willard
banged his walking stick on the ground.

“Archers! Go back to your contest. Let’s see who
is next to win a seat at the table with myself and the beautiful Kenna.”

John turned to his opponent. “That’s the best
prize I can imagine, aye?”

The other man shook with laughter. “You know,” he
said, “I think I might have other plans this evening. Even still, let’s make it
look like a real contest. For the crowd, you see.”

“Much obliged, friend. Anything you need, you have
only to ask.” John made sure to scowl to keep the appearance of rivalry.

“I know who you are, and who he is. And I’ve heard
tell of your woman, but never imagined she was quite so...well, let’s just say
I’m impressed.”

“Aye, my friend,” John said. “So am I. And we
won’t forget this.”

“Douglas, my name’s Douglas. Tell you what. When
this mess is all over, you can settle our debt with a drink.”

“Aye friend,” John smiled in one corner of his
mouth. “That’ll do just fine.”

“Is this a contest or a courtship?” The sheriff,
who had made his way back, said. “Get on with it. Pull and loose, pull and
loose!”

John and Douglas looked at the judge who shrugged
his shoulders, rolled his eyes and told John to step to the line.

Back and forth they went, pulling and loosing,
getting ever closer to the center of the target until finally Douglas gave John
a look as he stepped up. On command, Douglas notched an arrow and pulled the
string taught. John watched closely, squinting so he could see exactly where
the arrow hit.

“Loose!”

“Whoops!” Douglas let his arrow fly as he stumbled
forward. “I’ve tripped! Can I have another go?”

The arrow sailed past the target to the left, and
sunk into one of the bales of hay placed behind it for backing.

“I thought you were going to be subtle,” John
said, trying to keep from laughing. “That was a bite more flamboyant than I
thought you’d be.”

“Ach,” Douglas snorted. “Well if I’m bein’ honest
I didn’t mean to do it up quite that wild.”

“True enough friend. I canna thank you enough.”

“Like I said, whenever ‘tis you’re done with
whatever you’re doin’, you can repay me with a drink. Only one other thing.”