The Firebrand (4 page)

“To her two older sisters,” the abbess announced, taking a thick leather packet out of the wooden chest. “She has been determined to leave Barra and find her sisters. They, too—from what she told me, were sent to the Highlands by their mother after Edmund Percy was murdered in the Tower of London.”

“Do you know where the others are?”

“Nay. If I had any information on their whereabouts, I would have sent word to come and remove the vixen months ago.” The abbess laid the packet on the table and placed a protective hand over it. “With your connections, Wyn, I am certain you can find Nichola Percy in no time. I can only tell you that in her original correspondence, she wrote that she was taking shelter in the Borders...with some of the families that had close ties to her father, Thomas Erskine.”

“Finding the mother should not be too difficult,” Wyntoun assured her.

“Now, in returning the daughter to her, you must also return this package—sealed as ‘tis—to Lady Nichola.”

The abbess picked up the packet and held it out. Wyntoun took the packet from her hand. “What does it contain, Aunt?”

“In truth, I do not know. But Lady Nichola’s instructions were clear when she sent it to me.” Her sharp green eyes met and held the Highlander’s. “I was to hide this wooden casket and its contents. I was to protect it as if the key to the very Gates of Heaven lay within it.”

“And?”

“And I was to continue the watch over it until such time as Adrianne was secure in her place of safety.”

“You could have given this to her on Barra.” Wyntoun turned the packet over in his hand. The wax seal showed the Percy and Erskine coats of arms linked. “She was safe there.”

The nun snorted with disgust. “But she was never secure. The greatest danger that young woman faces comes not from those pursuing her as it does from herself.” She shook her head. “Nay! She was certainly not ready to receive this packet at any time that she has been on Barra. So as it came to me, I want you to return it to Lady Nichola...along with her daughter. Let the woman make other arrangements.”

Wyntoun casually tossed the packet back into the wooden chest and nodded reassuringly to the old woman. “I shall take care of everything, Aunt.”

“Very well!” The abbess rose to her feet and stepped toward the door. “And you
will
look after her?”

“I will.”

“You
will
be patient with her. She is, after all, quite young.”

“I can assure you, Aunt, no discipline I come up with for the English firebrand will be any harsher than hanging her in a cage from the top of Kisimul Castle on a midwinter’s eve.”

“Humph! That was nothing!” She waited for Wyntoun to open the door for her and then glanced back at him. “And you’ll find out soon enough that Adrianne has no fear of heights or anything else. Putting her out there was only a test of her skill. When I had her suspended in the Great Hall, it took her only a few hours before she’d worked herself free and was climbing down the rope on the far side of the Hall. I believe the cold must have slowed her down a wee bit tonight.”

Wyntoun frowned at the old woman’s serious expression, unsure whether her words had been spoken in jest…or out of admiration.

“Have no worries, Aunt. I shall see to it that she is safely united with her kin.”

“Very well! I’m done with it.” The nun waved a hand at her nephew and stepped into the narrow gangway, pushing Ian ahead of her toward the ladder leading to the deck. “Lead on, you hulking oaf. I want to get my feet on solid ground again.”

Wyntoun walked back inside the cabin and, as he closed the door behind him, his eyes never left the open casket on his desk.

“Far easier than I would have ever thought.”

Wyntoun sat himself at the desk, picked up the packet, and broke the seal without a moment’s hesitation. Unwrapping the leather, he gazed for a moment at the contents. A letter addressed to Adrianne Percy on fine parchment...and smaller folded packet of vellum.

He pushed aside the letter and reached for the folded vellum. Carefully opening it, he stared at the marks and symbols on the sheet.

The map. Well, part of it, anyway, he decided.

“Tiberius!” he whispered.

There was no warning. Suddenly, he felt the cutting edge of the dagger pressed tightly against his throat, the woman’s small hand having taken a firm grip on his hair.

Wyntoun dropped the map on the table.

“Very good, clackdish! But you
know
you shouldn’t be touching things that don’t belong to you!”

Adrianne’s hand kept a steady pressure with the small dagger as her eyes glanced over the map on the table before the Highlander. He turned his head slightly and the weapon cut into his skin. Blood beaded up on the taut skin of his neck.

“The next time you move will be the last time.”

In spite of the trickle of blood now running down into the neck of his black shirt, Adrianne knew that her threat had not struck fear into the knight’s heart. In fact, as green eyes turned and looked up at her, she wondered whether he was taking her seriously at all. His intense gaze swept downward from her face, taking in what he could see of the rest of her, and Adrianne suddenly felt her skin grow warm under his bold scrutiny.

Anger quickly replaced surprise, and she jerked his head backward, holding tight to his short black hair.

“Do not push your...” She paused as men could be heard passing the cabin door.

“Do not push what, wee one?”

He turned in the chair, and Adrianne quickly sidestepped to keep her advantage.

“Stop your moving, or I’ll cut your throat. I swear I will!” Wyntoun MacLean in the flesh was clearly a great deal more dangerous than she had anticipated while hanging in her cage off Kisimul Castle’s wall. And though the shade of green was darker, he had the predatory gaze of a cat on the hunt.

“And then what?”

“I...I have no time for these games. Be quick now. Wrap everything you took out in the leather again.”

The Highlander not only ignored her command, he sat back in the chair, stretching his booted legs before him. The muscles in his tanned face relaxed, one corner of his mouth quirking upward insolently. The rogue even had the nerve to look bored.

She jerked his hair even harder, wiping the smirk off his face.

“I gave you a specific order. Now, if you wish to live long enough to see the first rays of dawn--”

The small dagger flew out of her hand and clattered loudly across the wooden floor of the cabin as the chair he was sitting on toppled on its side. Adrianne hadn’t even time to let out a gasp before the Highlander’s rock-hard forearm was around her, pinning her against him.

Kicking, twisting, punching at him wildly, Adrianne felt the hand she’d held the dagger in going numb from his sudden blow. Her strength seemed to drain from her completely as she realized her attempts were having no effect whatsoever on the blackguard. The brute simply twisted one of her arms behind her back, applying pressure and pulling her tighter to him.

She winced from the pain, but refused to cry out as he pinned the second behind her, as well.

“Now, you listen to me, hellcat,” he said, snarling into her face.

She butted him with her head and this time had the satisfaction of seeing surprise and annoyance register in his arrogant features.

“What the hell...?” he growled. Holding both her hands behind her in one viselike fist, he grabbed her wild tangle of hair with the other and held her solidly anchored in place.

“They were not jesting on Barra,” he said, frowning at her. “You
are
truly dangerous.”

Her head pounded with the impact of the blow she’d given him, but she ignored it, glaring at him fiercely.

“You should have listened with greater care, knight, as I will be cutting your throat as soon as I free myself of your loathsome grasp.” Her gaze fell on his rigidly set jaw. She glanced up past the stern line of full lips—so close to her face—to his eyes. Wyntoun MacLean’s eyes were assuredly the greenest she’d ever seen in her entire life. Far greener than the abbess’s...and far more dangerous.

She swallowed the rest of her words and looked in the direction of the door. Escape suddenly seemed out of the question.

The warrior tugged again on a fistful of her hair and Adrianne’s head snapped back. She watched as his eyes moved over her face, her mouth. He forced her body backward, his bold gaze taking in even more.

“You are much more...much older than I thought you would be.”

The meaning of his words was unmistakable, as was the object of his attention. Adrianne felt a strange tingling in her breasts beneath the wet wool of her blouse. She struggled, but he again pinned her tightly against him.

“Let go of me,” she squirmed, finding her face too close to his own. Strange feelings were racing through her. Part panic, part...something else. So close to him, she could smell his masculine scent—that unexpected smell of sea and storm. The saltiness of the west wind. His scent was too paralyzing, too...exciting. She tried to push away from him again.

“You will stop your squirming if you know what is best for you.”

She paid no attention to his words and again tried to wriggle free of his hold. “If you don’t release me this instant, by the Virg...”

The words once again withered on her lips as his strong arm pulled her tightly against his groin. This time she couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her as she felt the ridge of hardness against her hip. She knew what it was. It was that peculiar condition she knew men suffered when they were enticed in a certain way. Adrianne froze, looking up in shock at his face.

“I warned you to stop your squirming.”

“I’m no scullery maid, villain. And I did
not
summon you.”

One dark brow arched questioningly. “What are you talking about?”

“You have no reason for...for getting like this.”

There was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth, and she gave him her fiercest and most contemptuous scowl.

“You think I need to be summoned, hellcat?” He pulled her tighter. “You think a man waits to be summoned?”

“Of course!” she challenged.

“A better man than I, perhaps.” His eyes narrowed as he stared into her own. “But how do you know so much about this business of...summoning?”

Adrianne felt his manhood throb against her and tried again to get free of his hold, but he wouldn’t release her.

“Did someone on Barra...touch you...or teach you of such things?” His face took on a murderous cast.

“I have had an endless experience with such matters. But what I know, I learned years before I ever stepped foot on your pitiful island.”

An eyebrow shot up. “
Years
before?”

“Let go of me, clackdish.” She twisted again, trying to break loose of his hold. Suddenly, the heat in the cabin had become unbearable.

“Years?”

She stopped, momentarily taken aback by the caressing softness in his tone, at the smoky look that had crept into his green eyes. Adrianne suddenly found it increasingly difficult to breathe. She forced herself to stare at the neckline of his black shirt, at the darker spots where she had drawn blood with her dagger.

“Aye, years,” she retorted as sharply as she could. “I was fourteen when I first learned of this. That is considered years, I’d say.”

“And who, might I ask, was the rogue that took it on himself to teach you such delicate and private matters? Some wandering friar, no doubt.”

“You shall not slander the good name of God’s lowly servants!” She hesitated, looking up at him. “As a matter of fact, there was not
one
rogue. There were many.”

His look of desire quickly sharpened to a glare. “Many?”

“Of course, there were many.” She nodded firmly. “Many men and one woman.”

“A wom--?” His glare turned to a look of shock. “And where did these lecherous acts take place?”

“In the stables of our estate in Yorkshire. The last stall on the left was the favorite meeting place.”

“Were...were your parents aware of such...such indiscreet behavior?”

“Of course not. But my sisters knew everything.”

“And they didn’t stop you?”

“Why should they?”

He was glaring at her. She glared back.

“It only began by accident...and quite innocently, too!” Her wrists ached from his powerful grip. “They knew I liked to go and learn by watching the men. And I never tried to rescue Catherine from herself when she would get lost in her books and daydream most of a day away. And Laura! She was worse with her lists and schedules and ordering everyone around.”

“I hardly think your sisters’ pastimes were quite the same thing as your...well, the fact that you would find pleasure in escaping to the stables.”

“You condemn me without knowing anything about it.” She tried to twist her arms free, but he continued to hold her. “And you’re yelling at me.”

“Someone needs to.”

“And why is that?” she stormed. “You don’t know about my family. If you knew anything about us, you’d understand that my nature and my talents are as valuable to our cause as my sisters’ contributions.”

“Your
cause
? And how is that?” His voice dripped with mockery. “Don’t tell me. I suppose you plan to sell your services...and expertise...for money to take care of all three of you.”

She frowned and met his piercing gaze. “Actually, the thought has crossed my mind many times. And I will tell you something, I would go through with it if there were ever a need for us to look after ourselves.”

His face was the very picture of angry discontent.

“I
am
as good as any hired man.”

“Hired
man
? This from Edmund Percy’s daughter?”

He abruptly released Adrianne’s hands, keeping his grip on her hair as he quickly righted the chair. Whirling her around, he sat her firmly in the chair and let go of her tangled locks.

“What business is it of yours if I--”

“I believe...” he growled, towering over her. “I believe I’ve learned more than I care to know about your flawed character.”

“Flawed? How dare you!” She tried to stand up, but he pushed her back into the chair. “Just because I am more capable than most hired warriors...certainly more than an apelike mercenary like you...there is no reason for you to attack my character. I could easily disguise myself as a man, and I can fight as well as any of you. I can cut down a rider with a sword. I can jump a ditch or scale a castle wall. I can ride a horse better than most men, and I--”